


Eldritch City

by beadslut



Category: J2AU - Fandom, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beadslut/pseuds/beadslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's country elf upbringing could never prepare him for what he would discover in the City. Following his ward on a frustrating quest, he finds beauty in architecture, unexpected friendship and a challenge to the vow he's lived with most of his life. It's really nothing like the Hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eldritch City

****  
  
  
**Prologue**  
August 15, 1914  
  
It was nearly noon when Jared arrived at the Taliesin estate in his new Model T delivery truck. He was very proud of it, and he had made the 190 mile trip in very good time, only seven hours. Mamah Borthwick and her children, John and Martha, welcomed Jared with great affection. Carlton, she said, would be happy to set another place on the screened-in veranda, where they would be lunching. Jared begged off, saying he had already eaten in town when he had refueled the truck. He asked permission to visit the workshop while they ate, to be sure the windows he had commissioned were properly crated. Mamah waved him on with a smile. Jared was a patron, well known to the family.  
  
Jared breathed deeply of the country air. The birds sang in the warmth of the day, different from the City birds, and Jared smiled with delight. He was sorry Frank wasn't there; he enjoyed the company of the architect and his ideas were inspiring, but the windows he had commissioned for the east coast Hill were the reason for this trip. Jared could see his friend another time. He turned to admire the house that Wright built.  
  
Low-pitched roofs with remarkably broad eaves overhung stone walls and gently embraced a series of outdoor courts with the verandah at the far end. The rough masonry walls made it seem as if the house had grown from the very hill on which it sat, an organic work of architecture.  
  
Jared paused as he walked to the workshop. He thought he heard elf song in the woods ahead, and peered into the lush foliage to see if he could catch a glimpse. From his right, there was the sound of running. That was when it all went pear-shaped. A shot sounded through the trees, the sound echoing as it hit the stone walls. The footsteps sped up, to elven speed, and Jared thought he saw Donnelly, his King, running in the woods. For a moment, he was furious at being monitored as if he were an elfling.  
  
The singing stilled and became cries of alarm; Jared put personal pique aside. His head swam - brain awash with someone else's rage and terror, the alarm of invasion. He heard screaming and spun toward the house in confusion. That was not where the shot had come from! Jared ran back as fast as he could.  
  
On the veranda, Mamah's body was bloodied and fallen, bludgeoned with an axe. Through his horror, elf sense told him she was dead, and John beside her on the floor. Where, his brain demanded, was the girl, Martha? She could still be saved! He continued on, and the smell of gasoline and fresh flames assaulted his nose. He ran to the front of the house where an elf ran from the wood and battled with a dervish of a man. Carlton, Wright's butler, swung the axe so hard it clove the elf's skull in two. The man stood in a killing field, bodies strewn about him, and suddenly, the clamoring in Jared's head stopped, and he took in the scene with growing horror.  
  
The man dropped the axe, and looked around him. There were eight dead.  
  
 **  
Eldritch City**  
Present Day  
  
Juggling the crowbar, the dry cleaner's bag, the dog's leash, and the groceries, Jared climbed the steps to the front door. The cars on the street behind him idled and moved a few feet at a time. Their exhaust steamed in the wintry air, the dense traffic in front of them preventing any serious movement. It was the rhythm of the City. He took a moment to examine the freshly varnished door of the prairie house before him. Kim growled and jerked at her leash. Jared was so startled, he dropped his keys.  
  
"Clumsy," came a sibilant whisper.  
  
Jared's glance darted to the potted plant on the top step. Kim sat, hackles raised, staring at something behind the urn.  
  
"Graceless," came the hissing voice. Jared gritted his teeth and bent over to pick up the keys.  
  
"Unnatural."  
  
The keys jingled as Jared inserted the oldest one in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.  
  
"Chad!" he bellowed.  
  
"In the kitchen," came a distant voice.  
  
"Why is there a nursery bogey on the front steps?"  
  
"Because I didn't let him in?"  
  
"It's okay, girl," he unsnapped the leash and Kim turned her big brown eyes at him. "It's okay, really." The black lab cast another glance at the plant, and walked into the house, tail held high.  
  
Jared sighed, and turned to the shadowy figure hiding behind the plant. "Enter and be welcome," he said. Troubled Fae were his job, even when their timing was bad.  
  
The shadowy shape scuttled before him and stopped short inside the door. Canvas drop cloths covered the floor and plastic sheeting hung on the walls. A pile of boards was stacked neatly in one corner, and the railing Jared had been working on before he'd gone to pick up his tuxedo was still clamped on the workbench. Motes of sawdust twinkled in the light of the clerestory windows.  
  
"Messy."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," replied Jared. "I'm restoring the house, there's going to be some dust."  
  
It sniffed in disapproval.  
  
Jared hung the cleaner's bag and the leash on the coat rack, dropped the crowbar with a clang, and regripped the grocery bags. "Come on in the kitchen, and you can tell me why you've come."  
  
The bogey eyed the iron crowbar with deep misgiving and gave it a wide berth.  
  
The kitchen gleamed. Jared smiled. Whatever anyone thought of Chad, his work was top notch. The nursery bogey was quiet, too, and in the light, Jared had a fleeting thought that the bow legged, pot-bellied shape beneath its shadowy exterior was male. Kim lapped at her bowl of water, as if she'd trekked across a desert, not the three blocks from the store.  
  
"Hey," offered Chad, from atop the counter.  
  
"Hey, yourself. I got that man soda you asked for," Jared said, and unloaded the sack into the refrigerator, except for the items that had to go in the bathroom, and put that bag on the steps that led upstairs.  
  
He looked at Chad and pinched his nose hard to keep from laughing. The previous tenants had left a lot of things in the attic, and Chad was working his way through the doll clothes Jared had rescued from one of Wright's infamous leaks. Today, the foot tall brownie was wearing black toreador pants with a silky red top, all covered with a flowered apron. His Barbie was seated at the tiny table next to him, turned out in a Southern Belle's ensemble.  
  
  
  
"You don't match," Jared said.  
  
Kim barked in agreement.  
  
Chad nodded sadly. "I can see that, but I haven't gotten through all the clothes. I keep hoping for Audrey Hepburn." He brightened. "She's beautiful though, isn't she? Give Kim a cookie." He bent at the waist, to buss Barbie on the cheek and offered Jared a tiny plastic tumbler. "Can I taste it now?"  
  
Jared remembered the bogey, and turned to see it trembling with wide eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry. Household business. Would a chair or a stool suit you better?" He reached up to push the hair falling in his face behind his delicately pointed ears, and hoped this bogey wouldn't insist on sitting on the floor, in the hearth, or worse yet, under a bed. He only had a couple of hours before Morgan's gala.  
  
"What--I have seen strange things this day, but nothing so strange as that," the bogey said, staring at Chad.  
  
Jared took a treat from the canister and flipped it to Kim, who caught it in the air and curled up on her rug at the back door. He put ice in two glasses, a tiny chip into Chad's tumbler and poured soda, handing Chad the tiny glass, waiting for his response.  
  
"I'm a brownie, you nitwit." From his stance on the counter, the foot tall brownie looked down at the bogey with disdain, the hand not holding the tumbler set squarely on his hip in challenge. "What are you doing here? Go home, scare your child!"  
  
"Can't FIND my child!" The bogey burst into tears, and Jared almost felt bad for him. Almost. He'd had his own nursery bogey once. "You are unnatural!"  
  
Jared put the other glass on the counter for the bogey, hooked a stool with one foot, and sat, elbows propped on granite, watching the Fair Folk hurl insults at one another in rapid and increasingly vicious succession, while Kim followed the conversation with mournful eyes.  
  
"Chad," interrupted Jared, deciding it had gone on long enough, "can we please hear why he's come?"  
  
Chad flopped gracelessly into the chair from Barbie's garden party, and folded his arms, glaring at the bogey, who shook and gasped for air.  
  
"I know you're angry, and maybe frightened," and hopefully disarmed, he added to himself, knowing how ruthless nursery bogeys could be. "Tell me how you came to talk to me.  
  
"What is this place?" begged the bogey. "It is not my Hill!"  
  
"You're in the City."  
  
"No, no, no," muttered the bogey, "not to happen, must find him, where is my boy?"  
  
"Your boy?" asked Jared.  
  
The bogey became agitated again. "The box opened! I went to Donnelly King, scary place the king is, full of nightmare Fae. He sent me to Morgan, Morgan sent me to you. Where is my boy?" he howled. Kim howled along with him.  
  
Chad raised his glass. "This isn't that good."  
  
Jared eyed the crowbar on the floor by the door. He had uncrated exhibits for the Museum all day, and had a pretty good idea where the bogey had come from. "Not good at all."  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared hustled to Morgan's Gala at the Museum. He was still shaking out the cuffs of his tuxedo shirt as he approached the railing. Looking over the side of the upper gallery, down into the party, he could see Morgan holding court. As the party wound down, he dealt with the requests and complaints of all the invited Fae. He was good at it, listening to their troubles, prioritizing their needs, sending the ones who needed Jared's help his way. Morgan was in charge, since mad King Donnelly was absent, in spite of the occasion. No one was worried about fealty, everyone was enjoying the art and celebrating the small society they had built, Sidhe, Fae, Folk, all united in City life. Even some of the normally standoffish Kindred from Uptown had come tonight, to mingle and have a peek at the stained glass and other priceless objets d'art.  
  
From what he could see, it was Morgan's best Gala thus far. When Jared had found the windows from the abandoned Hill at a human auction on the East Coast and Chris had confirmed that they were from Wright's own studio, Morgan had curated the exhibit. He had Jared and Chris drag out every hoarded piece of Wright's work and was selling the concept and the Tour to the best museums in the country. It was nearly a hundred years since the murders at Taliesin, and interest was high in the most famous changeling of all, Lloyd Wright, not that that was common knowledge. The Gala showed the Fae what they had wrought, and would add nicely to the coffers of the City.  
  
Morgan looked up and nodded at Jared, a questioning look in his eyes. Jared shrugged, and Morgan made his way up the graceful marble staircase to speak with him. Alona came from the opposite side, surveying the crowd as well.  
  
"You’re scowling at the ceiling again," she said to Morgan, softly.  
  
"I hate the ceiling. I hate the glass. I'm happy it's only in this wing of the Museum. I am not, however, scowling at it. I am scowling at that human. We're blending in, not exposing the Fae to City folk. I seem to remember saying this party was by invitation only and I only had them sent to Sidhe, Fae, and the Folk.”  
  
"Oh, lighten up." Alona's laugh was the patter of skipping leaves, "She's with that Red Cap from the Stock Exchange. She's in my Pilates class, and I know he has an open invitation to your poker night. She's safe."  
  
The tall clocks in the upper gallery began to chime the hour and Alona smiled. She loved the clocks. "I have to go sing them home." She floated down the steps to the dais, where two nixies were tuning their harps and a rusalka was putting fresh batteries in the microphone.  
  
Morgan scowled again, looking up. "I will never see the attraction of glass ceilings that don't help something grow, but humans have certainly invented some amazing things," he confided to Jared. "Things like aspartame, record-keeping software, and security systems. I can get drunk as easily as a mortal," he said, waving his empty wine glass, "and hoarding is _fun_ again."  
  
  
  
Morgan's human, Chris, walked by with a tray, and Morgan picked up a flute of Diet Coke. Jared shook his head at him, then watched Morgan take a slow sip and smile in appreciation. "I've already had three," Morgan confessed. "Good thing it's winding down." He smiled fondly at Chris, who bowed with a smirk, and went down the stairs with his tray.  
  
"So, not wishing for the old days?" teased Jared. Morgan didn't lighten up very often.  
  
Morgan turned, his expression suddenly dour. "Not on your life. I've done my share of protecting treasures, let electronics do it for now. What did you find out?"  
  
Jared smiled at that--Morgan was still a barrow elf at heart. "Not sure. The bogey's looking for his boy. I must have crated it with the cradle and never noticed. It can't be John he's looking for, but there were no other children at the house, certainly no child of an age to need a cradle."  
  
"And you would know."  
  
"I would know," he agreed. "Go, do your thing. I'm going to go check outside."  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared and the twin dverger guards watched the guests leave from the sidewalk nearest the remaining lion. They were vigilant; it would be a bad idea to have the humans strolling the City discover the Fae among them, even if they were co-workers. Now that the Gala was over, Morgan stood on the steps under the canopy with Alona at his side, seeing the last of the Sidhe/Fae/Folk to their conveyances.  
  
The last of the Kindred was leaving, bowing low to shake Morgan's hand when Jared saw a boy running breathlessly toward the building, eyes wide, clothing out of place. He was dressed in velvet, wool, and leather, a flowing cloak flapped, and hardware clanked as he ran through the slush. Before the dverger could question him, he gasped, "Sanctuary! I claim sanctuary from the King of the City!" He put a hand on the metal signpost, and hissed, pulling it back into the folds of his cloak.  
  
Ajax's eyes narrowed, and Jared called out, "Let him pass." A country elf claiming sanctuary was going to mean a heap of trouble. Morgan might be the de facto King, but he could not grant King's rights, that would topple the whole uneasy chain of command. "Call instead on Sanctuary of the City, child."  
  
"I am not a child!"  
  
He shouldn't be. Jared could see he was full grown, but the impression remained. He shrugged, going on alert. "What are you running from?" he asked urgently.  
  
The boy drew himself together. "I have travelled from the Hill, on a quest to keep my people safe. I must see the King."  
  
"A diplomatic mission?" asked Jared with a smirk. There was no embassy from any Hill. The City's denizens were shunned by tradition, ignored in practice. The Kindred had a Hill, where they held to the old ways, but almost everyone else had adapted, in their own fashion. He looked up, and Morgan was walking their way.  
  
"What's all this, then?" asked Morgan.  
  
The youngster pulled himself straight and looked Morgan in the eye. "I call on the Sanctuary of the City."  
  
Morgan looked at the waning moon in consideration.  
  
A flurry of motion appeared across the street before he answered. It was another country elf, running, calling out what might be a name.  
  
Morgan's eyes narrowed. "Granted," his voice rang with magic, "for one full cycle of the moon."  
  
The elf stopped in the middle of the driving lane on hearing Morgan's proclamation, shoulders slumped in dejection. A yellow cab was on a direct path for him, and Jared was moving toward the newcomer before he could think. The cab struck the elf hard, sending him gyroscoping into the air. Jared heard the arrows fall from his quiver one at a time, elven silver and reed tinkling as they hit the blacktop and Jared ran.  
  
Ajax shouted and stomped his foot; the road beneath the cab gave way, dropping the front end into a giant pothole. The stranger spun in mid air, long enough for Jared to reach him, hand cushioning his head before it hit the curb.  
  
Comet wrenched open the door of the cab. The human driver gibbered in fear and disbelief at the bearded and armored dverger . Comet shook his head at Jared. It was an accident, not someone from the tunnels directing malice at the City elves. Looking back at the cabbie, he grunted, "Watch where you're going, man." The human ran, abandoning his cab to the sparse weeknight traffic. Comet reached into the cab and turned on the emergency flashers, shutting off the engine, as well.  
  
Jared nodded his thanks at Ajax, who stood at the stranger's feet ready to help move him. Comet gathered the elf's fallen belongings.  
  
"By the tree, I think. Dirt and growing things help them heal." He looked up at the Museum stairs and bellowed "Alona!"  
  
"Behind you, doofus."  
  
She cast a glamour over them, and they settled the strange elf near the blooming lilacs between the Museum steps and the fountain.  
  
"Well," said Alona, her hands held above the stranger's hips and ribs, "he's been hit by a car."  
  
Jared looked at her in disbelief. "Yeah, I was here for that."  
  
She looked over the newcomer with a puzzled expression. "Iron, steel, they don't, apparently, affect him as they would yon stripling." Alona nodded at the boy, who was talking animatedly to Morgan. "He's hurt, but he'll heal." Chris came running down the steps with a first aid kit.  
  
"Get his clothes off," she said.  
  
Jared bit back a retort, and started unbuttoning, unlacing, untying. He looked at the elf as he worked; the strange elf was beautiful to his eyes, well-built, pale, lightly freckled. His waist length hair was a silvery blond that Jared itched to twine his fingers in. Chris nudged him. "On task, Sasquatch."  
  
Jared grimaced as he exposed ribs already bruising, and a hip that cocked at an odd angle. The elf panted with pain, and Jared stopped to trace a round scar at his midsection with a delicate finger. Alona batted away Jared's hands and looked closely at the scar. She cursed in the old tongue. The stranger's eyes flew open, and Jared could see they were the mottled green of woodland moss. She put one hand on his rib cage, another on his hip and spoke words of healing, as she pushed hard on the hip.  
  
"You're safe," said Jared, to distract him. "Among your own kind."  
  
The stranger focused on him and Jared felt lightning-struck by his gaze. A golden torc with leaf ends flashed into view around the stranger's neck, and his eyes drifted shut as he fell into Alona's healing sleep. Her hands ghosted over his torso as she continued to examine him.  
  
"I'll take him to my place--" Jared offered, suddenly. He ignored Chris's look of dismay. "You might have your hands full with the other one, and I'd rather hear their stories separately. Hill elves in the City. On top of everything else, it's not a good sign."  
  
"You're going to need help getting him there," said Alona absently. She studied the elf as she wrapped his ribs, hand over his midsection and then pursed her lips, surprised. "Jared, he carries iron inside of him. That scar, it looks like a bullet wound, an old one."  
  
"What?!" Jared exclaimed. "How would that have happened?"  
  
"I'd guess he was shot."  
  
Jared rolled his eyes and drew breath to retort.  
  
Chris sighed at their bickering and pulled a knife from his boot, barely touching the blade to his forearm before a soft neighing sounded.  
  
"Crithhchen," came the lisped name.  
  
"That's really quick, Mr. Ed," answered Chris, "I'm gonna start thinkin' you're mine to call." He looked unwaveringly into the blood red eyes of the kelpie that rose from the fountain, then patted its marbled flank, green as the River.  
  
"This one," he jerked his head at the unconscious stranger, "is hurt. We need your taxi."  
  
"I will meet them at the steps." The kelpie tossed its seaweed mane and vanished with a swish of its tail.  
  
Chris wiped the wet and seaweed from his tuxedo shirt, wrinkling his nose in disgust.  
  
The dvergers stepped up, a makeshift stretcher made from the portico's canvas and their spears, at the ready. "Guess we'll get a move on," said Jared, wrapping the stranger's cloak closer for warmth.  
  
Alona nodded. "Keep him warm, keep him hydrated. He's already healing, but it will take some time. He's pretty banged up, Jared. Broken ribs, and that hip," she shook her head. "It should be much worse. Arnica and willow bark," she said. "Chad will know what to do, but if you tell him I said so, I will snatch you bald."  
  
Jared inclined his head, but couldn't keep the grin off his face.  
  
"Asshole." Alona hugged him. "Get out of here. I'll find out what's going on with the elfling, and get back to you. See if you can get him to tell you about the scar. Might be something there we can learn to help newcomers."  
  
The dvergers carried the strange elf down the stairs to the landing. To the right, the water taxi waited; to the left, the dark maw of the bricked up, abandoned subway station gaped malevolently, and Jared grimaced. That needed looking into, as well.  
  
Dvergers didn't like water, but Jared would never have known, from the graceful economy of movement with which they slid the stranger into the back seat of the carriage serving as their taxi. They took positions on either side, guarding the elf, perilously close to the sides. The only spot left for Jared was on the driver's bench.  
  
"Your permission?" he asked.  
  
The kelpie snorted. "As if I would refuse you place of pride."  
  
Jared bowed low. "You are gracious to bear us."  
  
"It is what I do, now."  
  
Jared smiled ruefully. "Our lives are very different than they once were." He slid into the seat, and the kelpie started down the river. There were no reins, the kelpie was in charge. He pulled through the green river water, and Jared looked up, admiring his City as they drove the few minutes to his house.  
  
The kelpie brought them to the back door of the house. Jared used it so often, Chad had started called it an aquarage.  
  
The naiads were nearby doing their usual evening break swim, and syncopated music thundered from a boom box on the ledge near his door. Jared could see Kim lying on the cement, tail wagging in time.  
  
The kelpie shook his head, mane spraying water. "They should wear more clothing--or less. They look so strange to me."  
  
Jared thought they were beautiful, lithe and strong, each trying to leap higher than the others, sparkling river water streaming from their brightly patterned wetsuits. Bleached blonde streaks highlighted the natural iridescent blue and green that matched the gills in their necks. Colorful strips of plastic from grocery bags were braided into their hair along with silvery pop tops. They repurposed the river trash for adornment; Jared had seen the style echoed poorly by human teens in the City. He liked it, and made a habit of tossing shiny found bits into the recycling bin by the door for the naiads to find.  
  
Just under the bridge, on a girder even with Jared's balcony, River Mumma sat, smoking a spliff, watching her brood carefully. A golden comb lay next to her, sparkling in the glow from the streetlight.  
  
"Jared!" called the boldest of the naiads, and swam swiftly toward the taxi, treading water a respectful distance from the kelpie. Her breath misted in the cold.  
  
Adrienne, he thought. The naiads were sisters, littermates, after all, with the same nose, the same pointy teeth and a green cast to their chocolate skin, but he thought he could tell them apart. Some of the others wolf-whistled, and Jared blushed in spite of himself.  
  
"Good evening, ladies. I'd love to watch, but I have a patient," he said, gesturing at the stretcher, "a guest."  
  
Kim rose to touch noses with the kelpie, and Jared smiled at them. She dropped back to sniff at the dvergers, at the stretcher, and looked at Jared, head tilted to one side.  
  
"Oooh, Jared, it's an ELF!" Adrienne's nictitating membrane flew up along with her outer eyelid in surprise.  
  
The dvergers carried him into the house, and Kim followed. Jared could hear Chad carrying on. "What the hell is he wearing? A codpiece? For fuck's sake. Let's get him comfortable. You really hit the jackpot this time, Jared!" Chad shot over his tiny shoulder. The wounded elf was in good hands.  
  
Jared ignored Chad, used to him. "Now, none of that," he scolded the giggling naiads. "He's hurt, and I have a spare bed."  
  
"Play your cards right and you won't need that spare," called another of the sisters, liquid laughter in her voice, as she splashed and dove to the bottom.  
  
Jared's breath caught at the notion, and he looked toward the door, wondering what he was getting himself into. This was a Hill elf, with a set of rules Jared had never understood, living a life he didn't want. Isolated, rural, depending on nature for energy, so foreign from the throbbing heartbeat of his City. He certainly was gorgeous, and Jared's dick was interested. Too much, if Chris had noticed, and the damned naiads, always seeing more than they should. He waved off their laughter and turned back to the kelpie.  
  
"Call on me in need," offered Jared formally, correctly.  
  
"My need would be great, were I to beg your favor," answered the kelpie in surprise.  
  
"Great or small. I am glad you have made a friend of Christian."  
  
"The human? MY friend?" asked the kelpie, affronted.  
  
Jared thought it was mock outrage, and smiled gently. "He's _my_ friend."  
  
"You have odd friends, Jared," lisped the kelpie.  
  
Right on cue, Chad opened the river door one hand, towing a cart with a platter of raw meat, steaming in the cold. The other held a tray of cupcakes.  
  
Jared looked at all of them fondly as they moved toward the food. "The best sort. Bon appétit." He nodded a good night and went into his house.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Shedding his tuxedo jacket, Jared dropped it onto a kitchen stool, then loosened his tie and cursed as he fumbled with the cuff links.  
  
"Here." Chad stood on the rail between the twin sinks. Jared held out his right hand, and Chad made quick work of the first cufflink. He switched hands and quickly popped his own shirt studs while Chad freed the other cuff.  
  
Kim wound between his legs, and Jared reached down and patted her. "Why is it so good to get out of a tux?" he asked absently.  
  
"Probably because you have the elf of hotness in the living room," said Chad.  
  
"Living room?" asked Jared, startled. "I thought you'd put him in the spare bedroom. Where are the dvergers, anyway?"  
  
Chad waved a hand negligently. "Out the front door. I don't think they wanted to be anywhere near the river a second time. He's in the living room because it's got a fireplace, and I hate the stairs."  
  
"You don't use stairs."  
  
"Jared?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I got it. Sit, have a beer. You look like shit. You have got to get some sleep. Can't Alona give you something?"  
  
Jared shook his head and opened the refrigerator. Chad said beer, beer it was. He pulled out a stool with his foot and sat heavily, rubbing a hand over the stubble he hadn't had time to shave before the Gala. Kim huffed in sympathy and settled on his feet.  
  
The cell phone in his pocket buzzed. Jared touched the phone, and a voice said, "The Club. Tonight. Please."  
  
Jared thought he recognized the voice, and agreed, taking the stairs two at a time. He had to change into something more suitable for the Club where leather and eyeliner would let him blend in the crowd.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
  
It was cold and sleeting, the flip between autumn and winter in the City, and in the Club district, the night crowd was thick on the street. Jared prowled down Lake Road knowing the Hill elf slept safe with Chad. The wind blew in cold from the Lake, and he was grateful for the fur collar and lining of his leather jacket. He could smell the alewives still dying on the beach. Heading for the Club, he did his best to ignore the marquee, a giant chicken with a baby bonnet, that marked the entrance. He climbed the stairs, sensitive ears assaulted by an unpleasant hum. Walking past the sound desk, the darkness masked his movement as he nudged one of the sliders, modulating the harshest of the static to something that didn't make him grind his teeth.  
  
The patrons visibly relaxed as well, and the bartender nodded as he walked up. "Thanks, man. I don't know where they found that guy."  
  
Jared looked at the sound man. "Under a bridge," he murmured, recognizing the man as a troll, with a peculiar preference for dissonant harmonics. He took the pineapple and rum that the bartender proffered, and reached for his wallet, but the bartender shook his head.  
  
"Your money's no good here, not tonight. People are drinking and dancing instead of clenching their teeth." The flurry of wait staff at the service bar was evidence enough, and Jared saluted him with the drink.  
  
He'd grown up here, lived here most of his life, knew the City in and out. It was his City. The City Fae were uneasy, and it was his job to find out what it was. Something wanted dominance over the fragile balance of all the fey creatures in the city; he needed to find out what it wanted, and if it didn't want to negotiate, to eliminate it. Someone here had called to talk to him about it, so Jared made himself visible. He stretched out his right leg, pointed his toe, and admired the silver toe caps on his boots. They were purely functional, but Alona had asked the dwarves to smith in some beauty as well, and he appreciated it. No one approached him, so he thought about everything that had happened today.  
  
There were too many coincidences; the increased attacks on the Fae, his nightmares, all of it had to be connected. Jared was sure the cradle he had uncrated at the Museum that afternoon had been where the bogey had slept, but what it meant, how it tied together eluded him.  
  
Time didn't run the same for a nursery bogey. If there was no child in the nursery, it slept until its services were needed. Jared always wondered why there had been a cradle on the killing ground at Taliesin; Wright's beloved Mamah had a son, but he had been a young man when he was murdered, and human, without the gift of a bogey. Jared had found the cradle abandoned on the grounds. He had scrambled to wrap it, crate it, and keep it safe. He had stored it, then done his best to forget about it, and that day, until this exhibit. He shook the image of fire, of fallen humans and the mysterious elf, from his mind.  
  
There was other work to do tonight, information he needed desperately. He finger combed his hair, making sure it covered the tips of his ears, and knuckled at the scruff of his beard. If he lived in the Elflands, he could never grow one, something about the steel and concrete took that nifty bit of elven manscaping from them. His eyes, kohl lined and feathered with mascara to fit in, looked around, seeking the darkest recesses where other Fae might be seated.  
  
A small group of Kindred entered and nodded at him before taking seats at a trio of tables that had opened up as they walked in. Useful, unobtrusive magic, another way elves got by in the City, without exposing themselves. A server brought them beer all around.  
  
The band took their break, and the troll stepped away from the desk. Now that Jared could see him clearly, he recognized the troll, who went by the name of Bill. Bill jerked his head toward the stage and Jared followed him into the dark area that held the dressing rooms, if you had the nerve to go up the steep stairs, and preferably, a mountain goat to hold on to.  
  
"Jared?" grunted the troll, peering at his face. "You look different with all the--" he gestured at Jared's eyes.  
  
"Am," answered Jared. He looked at the troll. "You have some information?"  
  
"Maybe," said the troll. "What's it worth to you?"  
  
Jared sighed. "You'll tell me, or you won't."  
  
Bill nodded. "My brother is in the tunnels."  
  
Jared leaned back against the wall. "Go on."  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared took the back way into the Museum, entering his PIN at the main door. Hurrying through the garage, where the motorcycle Morgan was working on sat under a spotlight, tools and parts laid out neatly on the workbench beside it, he entered his PIN again. The Museum, restaurant and attached club generated income for the City elves' coffers, and security was paramount. He entered the hallway between secured rooms that were climate controlled to protect their precious contents, and climbed the stairs to Morgan's personal quarters. The walls of the hallway upstairs in the private section were lined with art. Landscapes, portraits of City elves painted by Masters, old and new, sculptures that Morgan liked, and glass cases filled with treasures Chris had gleefully discovered in the barrow elf's hoard. They marked Morgan's personal wealth, as well as that of the City. Jared touched the silver circlet set on a cushion on a parson's table, and sighed. Mad Donnelly, King of the City, had abandoned it and his responsibilities long ago.  
  
The door to Morgan's quarters opened as he approached, and the flutter of a breeze warned him there were pixies present. He patted the pocket of his jacket for the roll of candy he carried for them, and started to open the package as he walked into the room. Morgan sat over a game of backgammon with the elf who had claimed Sanctuary, and let the ancient dice he favored fall onto the board. Chris was sprawled in a recliner with an iPad, Alona bent over his shoulder, pointing at something on the screen.  
  
Morgan nodded a welcome. "This is Jacob," he said, gesturing at the boy. "He prefers to be called 'Jake'. Jacob, this is Jared."  
  
Jake stood, poised for flight, and Jared laughed inwardly. What a sight he must be to a Hill elf. He was mascaraed and dressed for the Club, leather pants tight, and the shirt under his leather jacket stretched snugly across his broad chest. The Hill elf had laid aside his cloak and weapons; in his leggings and tunic he looked out of place and uncomfortable.  
  
The pixies fluttered before him. "Candy? Candy?" they piped in their musical voices. Jared held the roll in front of him and read the label.  
  
"Butter Rum, okay?" He laid the open roll in his palm, and they jostled one another to snatch at the rings, flying off to corners of the room to perch and enjoy the treats.  
  
Jake's expression was pained, and the pixies gave the couch he sat on a wide berth.  
  
Jared looked questioningly at Morgan. "Pixies are forbidden in the Hill," he explained.  
  
"Oh." Jared was perplexed. The pixies were some of the hardest workers in the City. He rolled up the remaining candy and placed it back in his jacket pocket before he shed it and laid it over the back of Jake's couch, then sat on the arm rest.  
  
Alona had changed out of her ball gown, and was barefoot in sweats that had seen better days. "Jake," she called softly, "you must be tired, let me show you to your room." She swept down the hall, and Jake scooped up his belongings like a child sent to bed so the grown-ups could talk. After a beseeching look at Morgan got no reaction, Jake could do nothing but follow her without seeming unbearably rude.  
  
Jared looked at the table before him. "Jake have a thing about brownies, too?" he asked, just as a beer appeared on a coaster in front of him. He slid onto the couch as Chris moved over to sit next to Morgan, and Alona walked back in with a steaming cup in her hand.  
  
"I love coffee," she said. "It helps me sleep. I put Ajax outside his room." She looked behind her, and then ruefully at Jared. "If he's any indication, the other one will be a bigoted xenophobe as well." She sat next to Jared, and shoved her cold feet behind him. "You're always so warm."  
  
Jared pulled her icy feet into his lap, leaned forward, and started to talk, but Morgan held up his hand and made a slashing gesture at the hallway.  
  
"There. Now he can't overhear us accidentally. No matter how little he means to."  
  
Morgan wasn't usually quite so cautious, thought Jared, and cleared his throat. "Bill says his brother has gone to the tunnels. The trolls are worried enough to call me. A lot of their younger generation is down there.  
  
"Ajax says it's the same with the dvergers," offered Chris. "His sister's been gone for a couple of months. He told me about it while he was butchering a side of beef for the restaurant. Wasn't happy with it."  
  
"The beef?" asked Morgan, surprised.  
  
"No." Chris nudged his shoulder, and Morgan leaned into him with a smile. "Ajax is worried about the tunnel Fae just like the rest of us."  
  
Alona's toes poked into Jared's side. He hid a quick smile behind his hand, pretending to cough. Chris might be human, but he had become part of the Fae world, even before he had become part of Morgan's.  
  
"Well, what are we going to do about it?" asked Alona.  
  
"Wish we knew what they are doing down there," Jared mused. "Fomenting rebellion, braiding rugs, each other's hair, making music or smoking pot. There's no telling, and we don't have any convincing evidence that they're behind the violence, no matter what my gut says."  
  
"None of the seers can tell, either. Probably all the iron and concrete," Alona said, glumly.  
  
One of the pixies flew onto Jared's knee, and he reached behind him for more candy.  
  
"Could go. Could go," the pixie offered seriously.  
  
Morgan reached across the low table and opened his palm; the pixie turned and climbed into it.  
  
"It's dangerous. Dark," cautioned Morgan.  
  
"The bogey said 'bad Fae,'" added Jared.  
  
"Not pest. Not pest," insisted the pixie. "Looksee. Looksee."  
  
The pixie mantled its wings and looked beseechingly at Morgan who looked at Jared. "It's not like you can go skulking around down there." His gaze shifted back to the pixie. "Be careful."  
  
The pixie vanished, and Morgan lifted the hand it had stood on to stifle a yawn. Chris shoved at him. "Time for bed."  
  
"Yeah. Goodnight, you two."  
  
Morgan stood, drawing the human with him, and waggled his eyebrows at Alona in a parody of lechery.  
  
She laughed through her own yawn. "Yeah, yeah. Don't keep him up all night, Chris."  
  
Jared stood and picked up his coat. "I have to go, too. Left Chad home with the other one."  
  
Morgan and Chris walked down the hallway, arms around each other's waist, and Jared looked after them wistfully.  
  
"Jared?" asked Alona.  
  
He shook his head. "Just wishing myself the perfect elf."  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Chad was waiting for Jared. The tiny footprints in the sawdust that couldn't be helped even by a brownie told Jared he had been pacing. It must be serious.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking toward the living room.  
  
Chad sighed and jumped up to sit on the bottom step.  
  
"Why'd you bring him here?" asked Chad.  
  
"Was he rude to you? I thought he'd sleep--"  
  
Chad shook his head. "No, Jared. He's been asleep the whole time." Chad took a deep breath. "He's a Hill elf, Jared, a paladin, and worse for you, he's sworn."  
  
"What?!" blurted Jared, "sworn to what?"  
  
"I know," said Chad miserably. "I saw how you looked at him, Jared, but he's sworn to celibacy. I read it on his torc. Jared, a vow." Chad dropped his head between his tiny knees and breathed slowly.  
  
Jared stared into the living room. "Okay," he soothed Chad. An elven vow was deadly serious. The last time one had been broken, an entire Hill had been wiped out, and that was before he'd been born. Breaking a vow always had dire consequences attached. "No harm done. I haven't even had a conversation with him."  
  
"Shit," said Chad.  
  
Jared joined the brownie on the step, sitting heavily. He didn't know all his tells, but Chad did, and the strange elf already sang in Jared's blood. "Shit."  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jensen woke with a start to a heavy weight on his chest, and no idea where he was. The pressure came from a nursery bogey, who radiated sadness, and Jensen patted it gently.  
  
"It has been a very long time since one of your kind came to me, or since I needed it."  
  
"You smell of my Hill. Of my boy. You are not he," sighed the bogey, and slid back into the shadows in the corner of the room.  
  
"Wait!" Jensen cried. The bogey shook, and vanished.  
  
Jensen looked around warily. Where was he? His cloak and weapons were laid across a chair where he couldn't help but see them, his bow carefully unstrung. The smell of freshly hewn wood hung in the air. He could hear a loud buzzing, and sat up, breath escaping in a hiss. He _hurt_, and then remembered being struck. He should feel much worse, and what had struck him? Something monstrous and deadly, with no hoofbeats to warn him. The room was lined with dark wood, a cheerful fire behind the grate. Heavy velvet drapes hung on one wall.  
  
"Awake, then," piped a tiny voice. Its timbre shifted, and it bellowed, "Jared!"  
  
Jensen flinched, and pain shot through his mid section. He collapsed back into the blankets to catch his breath, one hand pressing against the pain of his ribs, desperately thinking of a way to defend himself. His free hand came to rest on his knife, under a cushion where he would have placed it himself, and his confusion grew. The buzzing stopped, and he heard footsteps.  
  
"I mean you no harm. Also, I have tea." A soft tenor voice came from the doorway, where a man, no, definitely an elf, stood, shirtless and covered with sawdust, holding two steaming mugs. "I'm called Jared. Be welcome in my home."  
  
A large black dog stood next to him, and Jensen felt the weight of its gaze. It leaned heavily on the strange elf's leg, drawing Jensen's gaze upward. Washboard stomach, well muscled, with broad shoulders, dark curls of abundant hair with the delicate tips of his ears peeking through them, eyes the color of the sea. He blinked. The sight was designed to tempt an elf. If the elf were not Jensen. If he had not made a vow, and if he wasn't a Spring Green Elf, far superior to any other Hill, much less the mongrels of the City. His eyes narrowed. "Where am I?" he asked warily, pulling at the torc around his neck.  
  
"You're in my house. Can I sit and talk? Oh, hang on, let me get cleaned up some." He stepped away and looked confused. "Chad?"  
  
"For fuck's sake, Jared. Quit getting sawdust in my tea!"  
  
The mugs vanished from the tall elf's hands and appeared on the low table next to Jensen. Next to them, a brownie, wearing a short white dress with a red cross on the chest and tiny high heeled shoes that were at odds with his hairy legs and very male form. Jensen started, and groaned as his injuries made themselves known all over again.  
  
"Arnica and willow bark. It will make you feel better soon."  
  
Jensen inclined his head. He knew better than to thank a brownie, no matter what outlandish costume it wore, but the brownies in the Hill were rarely seen, and certainly would never have spoken to him. The dog nudged a cold wet nose under his hand and Jensen scratched behind its ears, automatically.  
  
The tall elf, Jared, he reminded himself, was coming back in the door, a long sleeved shirt covering the glorious expanse of skin Jensen would have liked to have seen more of. "Kim! Down, girl! May I?" he asked.  
  
"We are in your home," said Jensen, surprised. The dog licked at his hand and sat, her head in Jensen's lap.  
  
"You have all the rights of a guest in my home," said Jared, almost indignantly, as he picked up one of the mugs.  
  
Jensen remembered a time where he was a guest, not a soldier, and dredged his manners to the fore. "I am called Jensen, and grateful for your hospitality. How came I here?" he continued to stroke the dog.  
  
"Literally? Dvergers and a kelpie. That's not actually what you want to know, is it?"  
  
"No," Jensen suppressed a smile, charmed by the tall elf's phrasing. "I was in pursuit of my... my ward."  
  
A loud whistle came from another part of the house, and the dog stood, giving Jensen's hand a soft lick before she left the room, tail whipping from side to side.  
  
"The elfling," said Jared, reminding him.  
  
"Yes. He is the son of our King. Run away from the Hill."  
  
"To the City?" Jared sat heavily on the upholstered arm chair nearest Jensen.  
  
"Yes. It is a long story. Is he safe?"  
  
"Drink your tea. If you don't, Alona will kick my ass. Your 'ward' is fine. Jake was granted the sanctuary of the City, " he said. "He's safe with Morgan."  
  
Jensen sipped, wondering what Jake had told these strange elves about their Hill. "Jake is in my charge," he said thoughtfully as he looked over the top of the mug. "You said sanctuary of the City. Is your King no longer Donnelly?"  
  
Jared look startled that Jensen had caught his deliberate wording. Smart, then. He would have to take care with his own words.  
  
"Donnelly is still King," Jared stated flatly. "Jake has been granted one full cycle of the Moon in the City." He thought for a moment. "That's one day waning. First things first. Your ward's an adult by any laws, free to come and go as he might please. Why is he a ward? Is he..." Jared searched for a word, "simple?"  
  
"Adult, by the reckoning of our kind." Jensen agreed, then sighed. "We live a cloistered life. Jake is … sheltered. He is my ward by the word of our King."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why is he my ward?"  
  
"Well, yes, but why cloistered?"  
  
Jensen looked into the fire, remembering. "Do you take changelings?"  
  
Jared, put his mug on the mantle and picked up a fireplace tool. Jensen could see it was more to buy time than because the fire needed tending. Jared poked at a log.  
  
Jensen gasped. "That is iron." He put the cup down on the table.  
  
Jared looked at the poker, and back at Jensen. "Oh. Is it bothering you?"  
  
"You are holding iron, Elf. How is this possible?" Jensen's mind raced. He had never met another elf who could touch iron.  
  
"Jared. I am called Jared." He looked at Jensen. "Alona said your injuries weren't as severe as she expected."  
  
Jensen eyed him warily. "Alona?"  
  
"The healer who saw to you. Jensen, you were hit by a car. Iron and steel. You're hurt, but not incapacitated or dying."  
  
Jensen's face flushed with embarrassment. "I can work metal. It has never been an advantage before."  
  
Jared nodded. "In the City, we are surrounded by iron. If you can't touch it, use it, you can't live here, you go elsewhere. Alona thinks we have a genet--" He shook his head. "Another time. It does not scar me, weaken me, burn me--let me see, it won't chase me away or hurt me more than any other weapon." He put the poker back in its rack and held out his hand. "See?"  
  
Jensen looked at Jared's hand, unblemished, except for a fresh nick on his index finger, large, and well formed, like the rest of him. He ducked his head so Jared wouldn't see his eyes. It was not important how Jared looked, it was important to get Jake back to the Hill. Still, he was seduced, and looked at Jared from beneath his lashes. A vow not to lie with anyone was easy to keep when there was no one he cared to lie with. Not that he had any intention of lying with a _City_ elf.  
  
Hard won discipline allowed him to shake the thought from his mind; he concentrated on the conversation. It was nothing for him to hold iron, but he had never met another elf who could. What other strangeness did they practice in this City, he wondered. To be able to hold iron was rare, indeed, it was another thing that made him a pariah in his Hill. He picked up the steaming cup.  
  
Jared came back to the subject at hand. "You asked about changelings. We do take them. Children who are born to difficult situations -- sickness we can cure, neglectful parents -- children whose talent shines so brightly we cannot resist. We foster them."  
  
"In agreement with their parents?"  
  
"Not always. Right now, three human children live with the elves of the City, one without consent." His eyes darkened. "That one is a long story."  
  
Jensen nodded, and understood it was none of his concern. "My people took a changeling. He was a young boy then, with thoughts and dreams even the elves could not equal. His dreams were not suited for us, but I like to think living with us enhanced his talents. His ideas were best fulfilled by and for humans." Jensen sipped his tea. "Samantha and I, we pled his case with the King, and he finally agreed to let him back to the world."  
  
"What does this have to do with Jake? Who is Samantha?" Jared asked, eagerly.  
  
"A great deal." Jensen looked at Jared with mischief. "I do not tell it as a bard would, have I not begun the tale well?" He could not remember a conversation he had enjoyed as much.  
  
Jared looked around the room, choosing the chair opposite Jensen with the low table between them, settled back, and took a sip of his own tea. "Go on."  
  
"Samantha was consort to our King." He cleared his throat and began again. "None of this happened quickly. The boy was near a man by the time it was decided. He was like to my younger brother. Robert agreed to let him go because Samantha asked it, when she quickened with child." He paused for Jared's reaction. An elfling child was a miracle.  
  
"And that child was Jake?" Jared asked, seemingly unimpressed.  
  
Jensen nodded. "Our changeling went to the world and learned and built houses and furniture and the most beautiful windows."  
  
Jared sat forward. "Go on." This was starting to sound familiar.  
  
"We remained friends. I would visit his world, his family. When Jake was born, he built a cradle for him, and we knew we had done well."  
  
Jared started, but waved a hand, so Jensen continued.  
  
"He made his life and his work with humans, but never forgot us. In time, he bought land near our Hill, built a home for his second family there. Such a home. It was like magic, the way it sat shining on the brow of the neighboring hill as if it had always been there." Jensen shook his head, as if to bring himself back to the story. "Our Hill has always been protected. The father of our King gave his eyes to watch over the Hill, to keep us safe."  
  
"Wait, what?" interrupted Jared.  
  
"His eyes," repeated Jensen. "He cast a spell and set his eyes in the Hill to watch over us."  
  
"Like, literally? Dude, that's... freaky. Donnelly used to talk about eyes all the time. I dream--never mind. Where is your Hill?"  
  
Jensen was taken aback. "I cannot tell you that."  
  
"Sorry. I'm sorry. I don't mean to ask for information you cannot in good conscience give me. It's just that I think I was near it once." He ran a hand through his hair, and Jensen could smell sawdust again. "Eyes, you say?"  
  
Jensen cocked his head. "He wanted us safe, and he could. Should I not be telling all this to the King?"  
  
"Not if you want help. Donnelly is raving mad and dangerous. He used to talk about eyes, though. Eyes that were watching him, judging him." He didn't think it was necessary to mention the eyes that came to him too, blaming him somehow, holding Jared responsible in his nightmares of the City and its Fae burning down around him.  
  
"They warned us of danger. Whenever someone was approaching the Hill. That day, they were stolen." He yawned.  
  
Jared stood and took the empty mug from Jensen's hands.  
  
"You need sleep." The tap of claws on the wood floor came closer, and the dog stopped in the doorway looking longingly at Jensen.  
  
"She likes you," Jared said.  
  
Jensen smiled, and looked at Jared sleepily. "If it is permitted, I would enjoy her company."  
  
Kim sat at Jared's feet, gazing at him in entreaty. Jensen heard him say, "Keep him safe, Kim," as he drifted off.  
  
  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared stripped off his shirt and went back to work, carefully sanding the joints of the sideboard that would stand in the foyer when it was finished.  
  
The usual traffic came to the door, a troll from the deli down the block with a new dessert to try, two elflings wanting to play with Kim, grocery delivery at the back, a young dverger couple asking if he knew of a fae landlord who might rent a storefront to them.  
  
"Thank you, Jared, for always watching out for us," said the dverger maid, as they left.  
  
It was his job, he thought, keeping an eye on the City. Eye, eyes. The connection made, Jared took the stairs two at a time. Eyes. What was it Donnelly had said about the eyes? Judging him, reproaching him. Eyes. Could they be the same eyes Jensen was talking about? Silver-chased topaz eyes that starred in his nightmares, every night? He pulled aside the plastic sheeting that protected the books from sawdust to reach the shelves.  
  
His hand hesitated over the family histories. He snorted. There was nothing in them before Donnelly, who had begun them as if he'd been born when he stepped into the City for the first time. Lists of the known Hills, lines drawn through those that had vanished or died out. Spells the Hills used for safety. If Donnelly knew something, Jared would have to talk to the King directly, and he did not want to do that. Maybe Morgan would have something in the Museum's archive. He pulled some volumes off the shelves and held them in one arm.  
  
The landing was bathed in blue light, cloud cover breaking outside, and Jared turned to look at the clerestory windows. He had fought with Donnelly when he was young, left the City to see more of the world. When he had met Frank Lloyd Wright, the architect had completed his first important jobs, and to Jared's eyes, he glowed with promise. Het had built these windows to Jared's specifications.  
  
Wright had designed with pencils and paint, depending on sunlight to bring the plants and flowers of the prairie to life. Jared favored water, and the clerestory windows had taken Wright years to complete to his satisfaction. The right mix of cobalt and potash had given him a blue that glowed in the sun or street lights, and Jared valued them above most things; they were truly inspired. Jared drew his gaze from them, looked back at the books, and huffed in frustration.  
  
Alona opened the door and walked in, dropping to one knee to greet Kim, who had left her post at Jensen's side.  
  
"Hey," she greeted him, as she ruffled the dog's fur.  
  
"Hey yourself." Jared looked up, and smiled at the two of them. "He woke up, talked for a bit. He's sleeping again."  
  
"Did he say anything about the bullet wound?"  
  
"I didn't ask him. Alona, he talked about eyes!"  
  
Alona looked at him sadly. "Oh, Jared, not this again."  
  
"Come on, Alona," he insisted, "it has to be connected. I've had that same nightmare every night for more than a year."  
  
She shrugged. "I know you didn't try the sleeping pills I gave you. Don't let the dreams make you nuts."  
  
Jared tilted his head and looked at her. "What did you say about our people in the tunnels?"  
  
"That they were nuts." Her eyes went wide.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
She nodded, "Maybe." She looked around the foyer. "Chad off today?"  
  
"Been working. He waits to clear up."  
  
"Well, you're done for the day," she stated. "You got the whole railing in! It looks great, Jared. Go shower. Chad!"  
  
Jared sniffed at his armpit, and made a face. "Go get some tea, or something. I'd like to introduce you. He's really something."  
  
Alona looked up in surprise. "Jared?"  
  
"Let's just take it slow, okay?" he asked, and placed the stack of books at the bottom of the stairs before he went to shower. Alona was the closest thing he had to family, but he wasn't ready to tell her how attracted he was to the Elf from the Hill, or that Jensen was sworn.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared passed on a steam shower, and stepped into the glass box he'd had built into the old bathroom without turning on any music. He set the showerheads on their most basic program, soaping and rinsing quickly, not making time for his usual sybaritic indulgence. He toweled off, slipping into the clean clothes Chad had left out, silk boxers, a favorite well-worn shirt, and equally soft jeans.  
  
Barefoot, Jared jumped down the last three stairs, as much to expend nervous energy as to let Chad and Alona know he was there. He'd interrupted their conversations before, and was already scarred for life. It wouldn't do him any good to overhear them talking about what he might be thinking about Jensen. He ran his fingers through his still-drying hair, habitually hiding his ears.  
  
Alona turned with a smile. "That's better."  
  
"Quick, too," teased Chad.  
  
"Brownies are supposed to be unobtrusive," said Jared.  
  
Chad shrugged. "I'm off shift."  
  
Alona laughed. "One of a kind," she said.  
  
Jared made a show of rolling his eyes. "Freak."  
  
Chad grinned, and Jared saw the can of diet soda on the counter.  
  
"Started without me, huh? Off shift, indeed, you lush." Jared teased.  
  
Pulling his Barbie close, with his eyes half-lidded, Chad stood and said, "Dinner's in the oven. You won't eat it. Popcorn in front of the microwave. See you when you need me."  
  
Jared put out his hand, palm up, and Chad stepped onto it, towing the doll by the waist. "I'll be fine," he said. Chad looked serious. "I'll be careful." Chad nodded, and then Jared's palm was empty.  
  
Alona filled the empty glass and handed it to Jared. "What did he mean?"  
  
"You know what he meant, Alona. My mother."  
  
"Your mother. You mean because her line only falls in love once in their lives?"  
  
Jared shrugged. "Can't rule it out." He brewed Jensen a fresh cup of tea under Alona's astonished look. He topped up their drinks, and took a deep breath. Kim bumped his leg and smiled up at him before nudging him toward the living room.  
  
"Jensen?" called Jared.  
  
Jensen's eyes opened and he smiled sleepily at Jared.  
  
Jared's heart went straight to his groin. That was a smile he wanted in his bed every day. Shit, indeed.  
  
Alona cleared her throat and Jensen tensed with a wince. He'd been staring at Jared, and hadn’t noticed the lithe blonde with him. He wondered if she was Jared's mate.  
  
Jared cleared his throat. "Jensen, this is Alona. You remember me telling you, the healer that saw to you?"  
  
Jensen nodded, not giving anything away.  
  
With the professional smile she used on all Fae, Alona walked into the room, but stopped well away from the sofa. She was used to her patients being armed . "Hello, Jensen. How are the ribs?"  
  
"Mending. You have skill, and my gratitude."  
  
"You probably want to know how Jake's doing," she said.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"He's with Morgan. Safe. He's finding the City is not so much to his liking, I fear."  
  
Jensen waited.  
  
"That is not how it is done in the Hill," she said, unmistakably mimicking Jake, "in the Hill such a thing would not be allowed, that sort of thing." She waited for Jensen's reaction.  
  
"He speaks truth," Jensen confirmed. He knew that from a day sleeping on the couch in Jared's house. Other fae came to the door almost hourly, how could there be so many?  
  
Alona's eyes narrowed. "City elves," she said, sinking into one of Jared's overstuffed chairs, "live differently than Hill elves. We don't have the luxury of singing and dancing about a fairy ring all day. We have an empire to run." She shook her head. "Sorry. He is young and sure his way is right."  
  
Jensen wondered whose way was right, and why any way was wrong, if it worked for those it protected. Singing and dancing about a fairy ring was not all they did in the Hill.  
  
She looked at him, seeing more than Jensen was comfortable with, "Jensen," said more seriously, "Jake can bear no touch of iron, although if he were careful, he could live among us. I must ask, are you able to be in contact with it?"  
  
Jensen looked at her; Jared could see that he was weighing his answer.  
  
"My people are Elves, they cannot bear the touch of iron," he finally replied. "I am different that way, it does not harm me."  
  
"Always," she asked eagerly, "or since you have borne the iron within you?"  
  
Jensen looked sharply at her. "Within me?"  
  
She nodded. "When I examined you after you were struck by the cab, I found a wound, similar to one caused by a weapon I know all too well. It shoots metal, steel or brass. In your case, iron. The remainder of such a weapon is still inside you."  
  
"Inside me," Jensen said, in disbelief.  
  
"I wondered if you were able to hold iron before the injury occurred, or if you were able to survive being struck by a car because of it. Jensen, we have many Fae come to the City who cannot abide the touch of iron. I am looking for a way to help them."  
  
"I have always been able to touch iron. It makes me different from the others." He ducked his head and blushed, betrayed by his fair coloring  
  
Alona was plainly disappointed he didn't know more. She spoke softly. "It's one of the things that keeps Elves from the City, Jensen. Every day, they come to us as the Hills grow smaller, less viable. It's a good place for them, but we are surrounded by iron. If the Fae can't bear its touch, the City is no place for them."  
  
"What do you do with those who wish to, but cannot live here?" asked Jensen.  
  
Jared thought of Steve and all the elves that lived in the Hidden Hill, and decided he couldn't trust Jensen with that information yet. "You know how you couldn't tell me where your Hill is?" he asked, slowly. "That's something we can't tell you."  
  
Alona went to a shelf and came back with a handful of boxes. "My turn to pick, you know."  
  
Jared groaned. "I forgot it was movie night. Jensen, you don't mind?"  
  
Raising his palms, Jensen indicated he was clueless. "I abide by the custom of the house."  
  
Jared nodded, and rounded on Alona. "Not Pattinson."  
  
Alona scoffed. "As if. I fancy Orlando"  
  
  
  
"Makes your tree bloom out of season, I know, I know." Looking at Jensen, thoughtfully, Jared ticked off on his fingers. "No Sparrow, no Tony Hawk, no stupid knit hats."  
  
"Choose wisely, then, grasshopper. Blond or brunet?"  
  
Jared laughed. "Let us leave it to our guest."  
  
Alona looked at Jensen with an arched eyebrow. "Your choice, cousin?"  
  
Jensen was warmed by the welcome, and inclined his head, "I do not know what I am meant to choose, but always in favor of the lady, blonde."  
  
"Good choice. You get the popcorn. Dibs on the loveseat!" Alona flopped on the smaller sofa.  
  
Jensen could see how comfortable she was with Jared, but he saw no evidence they were paired, and wondered at their friendship. He could hear Jake in his head, saying _That is not how it is done in the Hill._ 47 elves in the Hill. Robert, Jake, Jensen and 22 pairs, suited or not, meant to carry on their way of life. This was very different than the Hill.  
  
Jared left, and Jensen struggled to a sitting position. "May I ask some questions?" he asked earnestly.  
  
"Of course. You're family here, Jensen. If I can answer, I will." She sat forward, waiting.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
She tilted her head. "Other than myself?"  
  
He nodded. "You," he gestured to include Jared, "make decisions without the King. What is," he thought about his words carefully, "your position in the Court? Are you," he winced, hoping he would not give insult, "consort?"  
  
Alona's laughter pealed. "No." She regained her composure, and Jensen was no more enlightened than he had been to begin with. "I guess the three of us are sort of a council. Donnelly is mad; no longer fit to rule. He abandoned the City, so the three of us keep things running smoothly. I am a healer, Morgan is a politician, and Jared takes care of things. Because he is well suited, Morgan acts as King."  
  
"Things?" Jensen was still confused, but there was really only one possible role for the tall elf, "He's the Huntsman," he said confidently. He cast his eyes on Kim, who raised her head from the carpet to look at him. "You are no pet."  
  
Kim gave a mournful sigh and stretched, placing her head on Jensen's knee. He scratched her, and she leaned into him. "You lead the Hunt." She huffed, and jumped up on the sofa next to him, curling into a ball.  
  
"In the Hill, the Huntsman has no family. Is it so here?" Jensen asked Alona.  
  
"His mother is dead," said Alona, flatly.  
  
"And his father?" Jensen knew he was pressing her, and she wished the conversation ended.  
  
"Dead, if I see him." She looked stonily at the fire.  
  
It was clearly time to change the subject. A hundred questions went through Jensen's mind. "You say Morgan is the acting King, but he is not here. How can you make decisions as a council if you are not in contact with him?"  
  
Alona reached into the pocket of the pants she wore. Jensen noted that they fit her form very well, but hid nothing of her curves. No Hill elf would dress so. She held a small, flat box in her hand, and touched its surface twice. There was a buzzing, and a husky baritone voice came from the box. "Morgan. Are you okay?"  
  
Jensen gaped.  
  
"Say hello, Jensen." She smiled as she said it.  
  
"I greet you," Jensen rasped out.  
  
Jared came back in with several bowls, and looked at Alona, nodding. He picked up a long black box, the size of his hand, pointing it at the unattractive painting over the fireplace. It turned solid blue. Jensen shook his head. There was magic in the City after all.  
  
"Morgan, will you tell Jensen what Jake is doing?"  
  
There was a short bark of laughter. "He's walking the Museum. The dverger twins are with him. They're on Camera Four right now. This afternoon he set off all the alarms in the Celt exhibit, wanted to play a harp."  
  
Jared touched the box in his hand, and pointed at what had been the painting. Jensen gasped. He could see Jake as if he was in the same room!  
  
Alona laughed. "Jared's got us the feed, Morgan. What'd you do about the harp?"  
  
"I let him tune it. Chris says we have three more, what could he do to hurt it?"  
  
"Thanks. Jensen? All right?"  
  
Jensen nodded. He had to think about this. He did not even know what to ask. How was this possible? Jake was plainly free to wander, and the things he wandered amongst made Jensen's hands itch to touch them. He looked at Jared, who was touching the box in his hand again.  
  
"It's movie night," Alona said, "I'll be back there later."  
  
"Whose choice?" asked Morgan.  
  
"Mine," Alona laughed. "Orlando, blond."  
  
Morgan groaned. "Be sure you explain it's make-believe. I'm headed to bed. Jared, may I come by tomorrow?"  
  
"You have to ask? See you tomorrow."  
  
Alona touched the device again. "This is a telephone, Jensen. A farspeaker. Jared and I are always able to talk to Morgan, and each other."  
  
Jensen swallowed, and looked at Jake on the screen. "This is... we have nothing like this. Where Jake is, the treasures. Is it possible for me to go there?"  
  
"Sure! Maybe not tomorrow, let's see how you're feeling," Alona said, qualifying her answer, "but the next day, sure! Chris will cook you breakfast, and you can see the Museum."  
  
Jared saw Jensen was sitting, and his expression brightened. "Want to sit upright for awhile?"  
  
Jensen nodded.  
  
"May I sit with you? I have popcorn."  
  
At Jensen's nod, Jared placed two of the bowls on the table and handed one to Alona. She stretched out on the smaller couch and pulled a blanket over herself, with the bowl in her lap. She looked at Jared expectantly.  
  
He sat down next to Jensen, and Jensen could feel the warmth of the dog on one side, and Jared on the other. He ignored how good that felt, until Jared nudged him with his shoulder, smiling. "Ready?" He touched the box again, and music filled the room.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
"Can they hear us?" asked Jensen.  
  
Alona sputtered, the sip she had been about to swallow, spraying onto her lap.  
  
Jared looked reproachfully at her, and she excused herself.  
  
"No, Jensen. They can't hear us."  
  
Jensen thought. "I have never seen so many elves. They are all in one place, and all carrying their weapons improperly. Why did their captain not correct them? How is it they have so many arrows?"  
  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
"You have no Hill? This entire house is yours?" asked Jensen, sitting at the granite counter in the kitchen.  
  
Jared busied himself at the stove, plating the food he had prepared. "We have houses, apartments." He nodded with pride, and slid a plate in front of Jensen. "I bought the house when I came back to the City for good. It had been abandoned." His look darkened. "I had to. It was important to me to preserve the legacy."  
  
"Legacy?"  
  
"Yeah. Eat."  
  
Jensen shook out the napkin set next to his plate and picked up a fork. He marveled. He knew the utensil was made of a metal he should shy from, but he could touch it without discomfort. He cut a wedge from the circle on the plate, speared it and lifted it to his mouth.  
  
"You want syrup?" asked Jared.  
  
Sweet flavor Jensen could not identify flooded his mouth. He concentrated, but could not identify what he was eating. "What is this?" he asked, after he chewed and swallowed.  
  
Jared stood holding a small pitcher, poised over his plate. "Banana pancake. I can't cook much, at least not well, but these are my specialty." He gestured with the pitcher, and Jensen gave a slight nod.  
  
Jared poured golden brown liquid over the food, and waited. Jensen tried a bite. "Oh, this is very good. Can you show me?"  
  
Jared grinned. "Sure. Anything you like."  
  
Jensen felt himself blush, and looked at Jared with reproach. "The food, I mean."  
  
The grin turned to embarrassment, and Jared ducked his head. "Yeah. I can teach you how to make banana pancakes." Jared sighed softly, and Jensen felt the tug of attraction, never absent when the tall elf was near him, but not to be acted on.  
  
Jared sat across from him at the counter. "I heard you last night, asking Alona who she was."  
  
Jensen nodded, warily.  
  
"I turn the question on you. Who are you, in the Hill?"  
  
"Paladin," Jensen answered flatly. "I hear Truth, defend the Hill."  
  
"Not what, Jensen. Who?"  
  
What did Jared want to know? wondered Jensen. "When we came to the Hill--" he began.  
  
"Wait. 'Came to the Hill'?"  
  
Jensen nodded. "My mother was killed in a battle with an ogre when I was young. My father chose not to live where everything reminded him of his loss, and Sheppard accepted us. We were many then, close to 100!"  
  
Jared's brow wrinkled. "Were you happy?"  
  
"Yes. We lived simply, as we do, still. Our glade, our Hill flourished. Sheppard was our King. The Hill was pleasant enough, although the rules were different. He fell sick." Jensen looked uneasy. "I do not know, I was just a boy, and he may always have been that way, but he became unreasonable, seeing ill in all who were near. Your King, Donnelly, was the elder son, he came to his sick bed. They fought about the tithe."  
  
"Son?" asked Jared, startled. "Tithe?"  
  
"Well, yes," Jensen continued. He wondered why Jared seemed startled, it must be part of City lore. "When Sheppard named Robert as heir, instead, Donnelly left. I was given to believe he had founded your City. You would know this better than I, of course."  
  
"Of course," answered Jared, faintly.  
  
"When Sheppard asked when he could expect the tithe due him, they argued. Donnelly shouted as he left, that he had built the City, and would hold it long after Sheppard was dead. Sheppard was furious. He worked with his books and spells as he lay dying, trying to find a way to protect the Hill after he was gone. I heard him shout how he would have revenge on those who threatened our safety."  
  
"Did he?" asked Jared.  
  
"Have revenge?" Jensen shrugged. "After he passed, his eyes were set in silver above the entrance to the Hill. I have told you, they warned of danger, always searching out into the distance."  
  
"Huh. What color were his eyes?"  
  
"Golden brown, like a topaz gem."  
  
"Damn." Jared swore quietly, dropping his gaze, and changed the subject abruptly. "Want to see the rest of the house? When you're done, I mean. Alona said you should exercise gently."  
  
Jensen wondered what Jared had in mind.  
  
"It's a big house."  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
"This is the gym." Jared waved his arm in introduction. The floor was made of gleaming wood, with lines painted in a pattern unfamiliar to Jensen. It was large enough to fit the Great Hall of the Hill inside.  
  
"A gym?"  
  
"Well, it's more of a salon d'armes, actually. I train here, usually with Steve, sometimes with Chris. We can play basketball if we--oh, never mind."  
  
Jensen took in the racked weapons, and the mannequins, scarred from the blows of mock combat. He nodded. "Steve?"  
  
"You'll meet him. Used to be arms master to... not important. He's chosen a simpler life, in the City."  
  
Jensen glanced at him with a doubtful expression. Nothing was simple in the City. "With what do you train?"  
  
"Here? Mostly unarmed combat, as well as the weapons you see there." He nodded at the rack. "We train with ranged weapons out in the park." His tone became businesslike. " I'm sworn to protect our people in this City. I use what weapons are most appropriate."  
  
"You protect Fae and Folk as well as the Sidhe." It was not a question.  
  
"I do." Jared answered, on the defensive. "We are allied, each of us deserves the protection I can give."  
  
Jensen was shocked. "I protect the Sidhe from all others. Are our lives so different?"  
  
Jared looked at him with pity. "I think they are. Come on, you're not fit enough to spar, let me show you more of the house."  
  
Jensen followed him up the stairs, reminding himself just to breathe.  
  
Jared looked at him with concern. "You sure? One more flight of stairs?"  
  
"I can do this." He was Sidhe, but still, he pressed on his injured ribs to relieve the pain.  
  
Jared waited for him at the top of the next flight, and Jensen was rethinking his assessment of his fitness. Air was hard to come by.  
  
A shy look, something he was unaccustomed to from Jared. "A few more steps and you can sit." He opened a door. "This is my bedroom."  
  
Jensen took in the brocade and tapestry, but his eye was drawn to the enormous bed with its head set against one wall. Silk and velvet coverings were tangled, as if the sleeper had suffered a restless night.  
  
"Chad hasn't been up here yet," Jared apologized, "I'm usually still asleep. Step out here." Jared opened a pair of glass doors. "It's not too cold, today, I think."  
  
On the balcony, Jensen could see a table and chairs. Wood, he registered, and relaxed, even though he knew he could sit at a metal table. Jared pulled out one of the chairs. "Sit. I'll get you a blanket, just in case."  
  
A steaming cup appeared on the table in front of him.  
  
Jensen sat, gently. He was not as fit as he thought. He breathed slowly, feeling the pull of muscles on his ribs.  
  
Jared appeared behind him, a whisper of silk and wool in his hands. He draped it over Jensen's shoulders. "I may have pushed you a little too hard. Drink some tea. The view is worth it, I promise."  
  
Jensen looked over the railing to the River below, Then up, and his jaws dropped. The skyline of the City reached for the clouds, each building taller than the next. "Jared, what year is this, by human reckoning?"  
  
"2012."  
  
Jensen gasped, and pressed against his ribs at the sharp pain. Near a hundred years had passed. He had thought, perhaps ten. Time was so different in the Hill. There would be no chance to find who had killed the family of his friend. He closed his eyes to take it all in.  
  
"Irie, Jared," came a soft contralto from his left.  
  
Jared kept a hand on Jensen's shoulder as his eyes flew open, to keep him from bolting. "River Mumma, this is Jensen."  
  
River Mumma sat on a crossbar of the bridge, close enough to Jared's balcony to touch them. Matted braids with gleaming silver streaks peeked out from a bright kerchief, folded intricately on her head. She took him in with a glance, her slitted brown eyes assessing him, finding him adequate. She blinked, and a clear eyelid flashed downwards. She lit the rolled paper she held in one hand with a snap of her other fingers, and a sweet, pungent smoke enwreathed them.  
  
"Pretty hair, elf man," she said with a lilt. "Would you like to comb it?" She held out a comb of gold, exquisitely formed.  
  
Jensen smiled at her. "A gracious offer, indeed. Perhaps another time." He could recognize a river spirit when he saw one, even one as exotic as she was, and knew better than to reach for the beautiful comb.  
  
She laughed, full and hearty, and the comb disappeared into her colorful head wrap. "Good answer."  
  
She passed the smoking paper to Jared who drew the smoke deeply into his lungs, and held it out to Jensen. He took a small puff as he had seen Jared do, and his ribs protested. He handed it back toward River Mumma with a grimace. "Cracked ribs."  
  
"It will help you relax, elfman." She gestured for him to try again.  
  
Jensen took a deeper breath, smoke going into his lungs and straight to his head. Jensen looked out at the City again. He would come to terms with the time that had passed, as he had with every strange thing he had seen in the City so far. Indeed, he felt, very strange, and looked at Jared accusingly.  
  
Jared smiled softly and sat next to him. "It's all right." He pointed. "Do you see the golden building?"  
  
Jensen nodded, his body feeling light, pain free.  
  
"Your changeling designed that.  
  
Jensen's heart caught. The building glowed, set soft like a bowl among the others.  
  
Jared met his eyes. "He was my friend," he said softly.  
  
Jensen stiffened. "Elves have no human friends."  
  
"I never told him I was an elf, although he must have known, if he was your changeling. Oh, you mean me." He shrugged. "I do. Have had, as well." Jared ducked his head. Jensen recognized it as an effort not to bring himself into the discussion. "Frank was a genius. I saw him again, toward the end of his life. He still blazed, Jensen, with promise. Were he an elf... I wish he had lived our span of years." Jared cleared his throat. "Now look there," he gestured, "that tall building?"  
  
Jensen looked where he indicated, the top of the building wrapped with clouds. "I can barely see its roof."  
  
"It was only the tallest building in the world for one year. There are many taller ones now, but this one is here in the City, I can take you up to the top."  
  
"Like a bird?" asked Jensen, eyes wide.  
  
"No, Jensen," he answered gently. "On an elevator."  
  
Jensen's eyes were drawn back to the round golden building. It was beautiful. He smiled at Jared. "It is kind of you to show me these things."  
  
Jared smiled back, and ducked his head.  
  
"You are sure in it, boy," said the woman.  
  
"Don't I know it," answered Jared.  
  
Jensen smiled happily. The world was gold, rose and blue, his ribs did not hurt, and he was at peace. "It's beautiful."  
  
Jared looked out at the view. "It is. This is my City, Jensen. It's my life, my respon--" When he looked back at Jensen, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was soft, and regular.  
  
The woman laughed softly. "Sleep is what he needs."  
  
Jared gave a shake of his head, and looked back into the house. "He's a lightweight."  
  
"Use your magic, boy."  
  
"To put him to bed, or to make him stay?" asked Jared, wistfully.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Jared looked at Jensen. He was no fainting elf maiden, and Jared didn't want to jar him out of his healing slumber by picking him up. He thought of the right spell, realized this might be the only time he might hold the country elf flush against him, and reconsidered. Jensen was heavy, and Jared had to use all his strength to carry him to the bed, settling him without waking him.  
  
He turned to crack a joke, to diffuse the moment of intimacy, but River Mumma had disappeared, the door closing softly in her wake.  
  
Jared turned back to the bed. Jensen slept neatly, quietly. The daylight filtering through the sheer curtains caressed him, wanting him almost as much as Jared had to admit he did. This would not end happily, he thought. Paladin. Off limits. He had to respect the vow, no matter how he felt about it. Jensen must have had his reasons, and Jared didn't know him well enough to ask what they were.  
  
Jared yawned, short on rest, and the other side of the bed beckoned. He usually slept naked,  
spread out like a starfish, taking up every inch of space, but now he had a guest. He settled on the bed, and gathered the covers into a pile between them, determined to stay on his side. Kim woofed from the doorway, and he patted the mattress. She was as good as a bundling board, he thought, as she bounded up on the bed to lie between them.  
  
The same thoughts that woke him early spun back into his head.  
  
How was everything connected? The eyes belonged to the Hill, the eyes were stolen. He hadn't been in the City, but Morgan said that Donnelly's strange behavior had begun to manifest right about then. Jared had taken years to travel, to put the horrible day at Taliesin behind him. When he had returned, Donnelly was no longer the man Jared remembered. Vanishing for days at a time, delegating his responsibilities, leaving Alona and Morgan, and then Jared, to serve as administrators in his stead. Ten years ago, right about the time when the tunnels all over the city had flooded and his authority had been needed most, he had dropped his circlet in the middle of the Museum foyer and walked out the doors.  
  
Jared shook his head and fell into a fitful sleep. The dream came so quickly, Jared was deep in its grasp before he could fight it. Held fast in the nightmare's thrall, he saw himself standing at the base of the Museum steps, the ground in front of him littered with the dead. Ajax, Morgan, Chris reaching for his lover, Alona protecting some elflings, all sprawled in death on the street. A wall of flames rose from the buildings across the street, and above them all, the eyes, topaz chased with silver, floated in the sky, looking accusingly at him. Tiny pixies and a woman Jared could not see clearly tried to scale the buildings to reach the eyes; they fell as well, their bodies joining the other dead. This was his fault. All his fault somehow.  
  
Jared woke with a shout. A strong, warm hand rested lightly on his shoulder, and he fell back onto the pillow with a groan.  
  
"Nightmare?" asked Jensen.  
  
"Same one," agreed Jared. "Every night for a year. Same one since the murders, just more often."  
  
"Murders?" asked Jensen warily. Whatever Jared had dreamt of, in his voice was Truth.  
  
Jared propped himself up on an elbow and looked at Jensen. He had meant this bed to be a place of respite, of passion. It was not a place for fear. "Let's go downstairs, since you're awake."  
  
He swung his legs over the side and rubbed his face. "I'm hungry again. Should we see what Chad's made?"  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
A soft knock at the door startled Jensen out of his reverie. Was this trouble? Did he need a weapon?  
  
Jared went to the door unarmed, but Jensen reached for the long knife on the table before him.  
  
"That'll be Morgan," said Jared, and opened the door.  
  
Morgan smiled. He raised an eyebrow at Jared. "You look like hell."  
  
"Yeah, thanks."  
  
"Jensen, can we have a word?" Morgan asked.  
  
Jensen nodded, and crossed the room to meet them, Jared's smile a reassurance at what amounted to a royal audience.  
  
They walked through the foyer, still filled with wood and Jared's tools, the light from the outside street lamps casting a glow through the windows, high above the door. Jensen paused for a moment. Wright had created them. Every time he saw them, he felt a tug at his heart.  
  
Jared followed his gaze. "They are impressive, aren't they?"  
  
Jensen nodded, heart aching. "Like, yet unlike."  
  
"He made them for me, a special commission." Jared said. "We have more at the Museum that are more like what you remember. I'll take you there in the morning, I think you're well enough."  
  
Jared opened the door to a room that Jensen had not been in, and the Hill elf looked around carefully . Dark wood, overstuffed chairs. A masculine room, leather furniture and a large desk. The strong vertical lines of the high backed chairs made him mourn his brother all over again. There was no one like him. Morgan shook his head at Jared's offer of the desk, and with a look, indicated they should sit in the trio of chairs by the fireplace. The largest chair was left empty for Morgan. Jared had called him a de facto King; he wielded great power. Jensen stood, waiting.  
  
As Morgan sat, the fireplace twinkled into life, a small flame growing, warm and welcoming. Snifters of brandy appeared on a side table, and Jared handed them each one.  
  
Morgan wiped a smile off his face and looked at Jared. "Still have Chad, eh?"  
  
"Yup." Jared sat in the chair at Morgan's right.  
  
Jensen still stood, and Morgan looked at him. "I appreciate your caution, but we have to speak frankly here. Will you do me the courtesy?"  
  
Jensen inclined his head and sat, questions whirring in his head. "If I can. I must protect my people." His hand touched the torc, and fell lightly to his waist.  
  
Morgan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the brandy snifter between his hands. "Jake is well, safe at the Museum. You can come see him any time. Jared will bring you. He thought rightly we should hear your stories separately."  
  
Jensen nodded.  
  
"Our City is in a precarious state. We and the rest of the Fae have been experiencing violent attacks, not only on us, but also on the humans of the City." He waited for Jensen's reaction.  
  
"I do not understand what that has to do with a wayward son and his obsession," Jensen said hesitantly. "If there is something I can aid you with, you have my service." It was no small promise for him to make.  
  
Morgan looked at him intently. "You mean that."  
  
"I do."  
  
"I will have more questions for you, but let's stay on track." The lines around Morgan's eyes deepened. "What Jake is looking for, these 'eyes'. Do you think they are here?"  
  
Jensen looked at him surprised. He had expected to be asked about the Hill. "Jake is not really looking for the eyes," he admitted, "he searches instead for his mother. The eyes are an acceptable quest."  
  
Jared tilted his head. "Looking for his mother is not 'acceptable'?"  
  
"Not to the King." Samantha and Robert had argued fiercely, and a great many things had been said, at high volume, but that was not the business of those outside of the Hill. Robert had given her up as lost and never again spoke her name.  
  
He looked up into expectant eyes. "On the day the eyes were stolen from the Hill, I was injured." He shrugged, making light of it. "The healer said it was a grievous wound, from a weapon unfamiliar to him. I was unable to go in pursuit, so Samantha went in my stead. She was my mentor, a skilled weapons master, and we never saw her again."  
  
"She was consort, and Jake's mother?" asked Jared, gently.  
  
"Yes." She was my only friend, he wanted to add, but he was not about to share that.  
  
Morgan looked puzzled. "Why search here?"  
  
Jensen gave a feral grin. "I have looked everywhere else I can think of. She did not go north, the elves of the next Hill never saw her, and her dearest friend married there. She did not go east, no one she ever spoke of has heard from her. It was as if she vanished. Jake overheard me discussing it."  
  
Jared's heart skipped a beat. Vanished. No one had ever come looking for blind Jane, who lived in the Green, or asked about an elvish woman, in the years since she appeared crumpled on the river's embankment without any memory of her past. Was Jane Samantha? He would look into that tomorrow. No point in getting anyone's hopes up. Jared focused on Morgan and the questions he was asking.  
  
"With Robert?"  
  
Jensen stilled. Had he mentioned Robert's name?  
  
"Jake has told me a great many things about the Hill," said Morgan, reassuringly. "Was there anything else strange that happened around the time of the theft?" asked Morgan.  
  
Jensen's face darkened. "We lost one of our Hill. My father."  
  
"How?"  
  
Before he could answer, Jared sat forward, and spoke, his eyes unfocused. Jensen started, it was the same tone in which Jared had spoken of his nightmare. Truth. "It was a terrible thing. The people in the house on the brow of the neighboring hill went mad. One man had an axe, and he began killing the others who were there. An elf ran from the woods to stop him, and the man killed him with one blow from an iron axe. Some of the humans were felled with elf shot, and then all was quiet again."  
  
Jensen looked at him in shock. Even the abbreviated telling of it was horrifying. "The elf who was killed was my father. That is how the story is told in the Hill. Only, my father was found at the edge of the woods, and the house was set afire."  
  
"It was afire," Jared agreed, "I fanned the flames and nothing with any elven trace was found. I made sure of it. I crated and stored it all, and loaded all the things onto my truck. Including a cradle. I threw the remaining gasoline, Jensen, to protect the elves, and I've lived near a hundred years since then." He rubbed a hand over his face, "I knew there were elves nearby who would care for the dead -- your father -- in your tradition, so I moved his body." Jared's eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but he looked at Jensen and asked, "Do you know how the cradle got there?"  
  
Jensen nodded. "Jake had outgrown it. We were bringing it back, singing it home for the next child. The moon waned gibbous the night before; it was a good time to let it pass to its maker." He shivered. “We were nearly out of the wood when we heard the alarm, the eyes thrummed and the Hill shrieked. We dropped everything to protect our Hill."  
  
The shadow in the corner whimpered.  
  
"That bogey is looking for Jake." Jared said, positively.  
  
"Unfinished," it hissed.  
  
Morgan looked into the shadowy corner. "You want your boy, knowing that he is a man, now?" he asked seriously.  
  
The bogey crept closer. "Unfinished. I did not teach him what he needs."  
  
"I'll take you to him."  
  
The bogey trembled, but moved to Morgan's chair.  
  
"Then what?" Morgan prompted Jensen.  
  
"Someone had stolen the eyes, and was running through the forest."  
  
Jared gasped. He remembered seeing the familiar figure, trying to comprehend what Donnelly was doing there, furious that he was checking on Jared, grown as he was.  
  
Morgan looked thoughtfully at them. "That is where this all began."  
  
Jensen heard Truth in his words.  
  
Morgan looked at him questioningly, and Jensen shook his head. He wasn't ready to share his thoughts.  
  
"I will take my leave." said Morgan. "It's a lot to think over." He looked down at the bogey. "It is not far. Will you walk with me?" Jared saw them to the door and watched them go. The bogey tried to stay in Morgan's shadow, skipping back and forth as the elf walked down the wintry sidewalk.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared shut the door behind Morgan and looked at Jensen. "I am sorry about your father."  
  
"You did what you had to do. You protected everyone." He walked into the living room, chilled in spite of the pleasant temperature in the house, intent on the comfort of the fire.  
  
"I should have been faster," said Jared, softly.  
  
"Then you would be dead, as well. Jared--" began Jensen.  
  
A knock at the door interrupted them.  
  
The door opened and a blond elf stuck his head through the opening.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry to barge in, Jared, but the heat's out again. Can you come look?"  
  
"What's up with the furnace?" asked Jared.  
  
The elf hung his head. "You know I'm no good with that stuff."  
  
"I can take a look," Jared was saying. Jensen felt panic. What was a furnace? He didn't like the thought of Jared leaving. "But maybe we should ask Ajax? He'll know the best guy for it."  
  
The stranger agreed, and Jensen breathed a painful sigh of relief. He did not care to be separated from Jared.  
  
Jared looked at Jensen with a shrug. The conversation would have to wait. He stepped back with a grin. "Mi casa, su casa, Steve. Jensen, this is Steve, my sparring partner. Steve, Jensen, from the Hill.  
  
Steve looked at Jensen with wide eyes, and Jared continued, "Beer's in the fridge. Chad!"  
  
"From the Hill?" asked Steve. "Which Hill?"  
  
"Spring Green," answered Jared absently, pushing at a small black box like Alona's.  
  
Jensen looked at him in shock. He had told the elf where Jensen's Hill was!  
  
"I have a couple from Spring Green," answered Steve, thoughtfully.  
  
Jensen's shock was complete. "You what?"  
  
Steve looked at him, surprised, and Jared cursed quietly, holding up a hand as he spoke at the box. "Ajax, this is Jared. Heat's out at Hidden, can you meet me there?" He listened for a moment. "Great, thanks!"  
  
He looked at Jensen, searchingly, as he put the box in his pocket. "You remember, I said I couldn't tell you what happened to the elves that came here and couldn't live in the City?"  
  
Jensen nodded, curious.  
  
"This is our biggest secret, Jensen. Will you keep it?"  
  
Jensen didn't have to think. There were elves from his Hill near the City? He had to know. "I will," he answered, "I understand they must stay safe." He reached for his cloak, still on the chair, tossing it over his shoulders, and pinned the brooch  
  
Jared nodded. "Chad!"  
  
Three canvas bags plopped down by the door. "Blankets, and plastic thermoses of soup and tea. Anything else?" asked the brownie from where he stood atop Jared's workbench.  
  
Steve looked at the brownie in awe. "You are a giant among brownies, Chad."  
  
"Yeah, quit with the short jokes." The brownie waved at them to hurry. "Taylor must be close, Jared, get a move on, we don't need any of them getting sick."  
  
Jared pulled on his leather jacket, and made a face. He took it off, and pulled a long dark blue cloak off the coat rack instead. Jensen reached for his bow and quiver.  
  
Jared smiled at him, and belted on the long sword that was propped in the corner.  
  
  
Steve shook his head. "Size queens. Come on before they use my Duncan Phyffe chairs for kindling."  
  
They left the house, each carrying a bag. Steve looked at Jensen appraisingly. "You're the paladin."  
  
Jensen started.  
  
"Sorry," said Steve. "They talk."  
  
"Of me?" asked Jensen.  
  
"Of your sacrifice."  
  
Jensen made no reply, but Jared looked at him sharply, drawing conclusions. Paladin.  
  
Steve led the way, and from the way they passed through the air, Jensen knew they were on a shadow walk, eating ground and passing through the City, unseen.  
  
"Alona found Taylor in the park," Steve began, "she had gone to the glade to welcome the morning, and no one else from the Hill joined her. When she returned, they had vanished. She lost her husband, her sisters, and her entire life."  
  
Jensen was horrified.  
  
"She made her way to the only other place she knew, seeking haven, but the City was no place for her."  
  
"Iron?" asked Jensen.  
  
Steve nodded. "Alona brought her to our hidden hill to recover."  
  
They were deep in a woods now, and Steve led the way toward a dark overhang. He turned toward Jared and Jensen. "Enter and be welcome."  
  
Jensen looked at him with new respect. "King."  
  
"Only when I need to be," Steve answered. "Not suited, but they need someone."  
  
He waved them in, and Jensen smiled. A True Hill. He could smell the earth, undistorted by the stink of the City. As they all ducked under the lintel, Steve said, "No worries. It's bigger on the inside."  
  
The hall was a huge room. They dropped the bags they were carrying, and a heavily pregnant elf stood from where she sat near the fireside wrapped in a cloak. She was dressed properly, the gold trim on her gown marking her as a treasured daughter. Jensen was flustered. He had lived a long time, had seen one pregnant elf, and that was miraculous. It was more than he could wrap his brain around, no matter how many new things he had seen these last days. Good manners kicked in as Steve motioned them into the living area. The girl glowed, putting the firelight to shame, and Jensen bowed in reverence. She accepted his bow with a demure nod.  
  
"This is Taylor," said Steve. "Matt will be readying the bower."  
  
A pixie lit on Steve's shoulder, and his expression changed. He looked at Jared. "Jane's gone. Gear and food missing. Fuck, Jared, she's blind, and can't deal with iron."  
  
Jared groaned. One mystery might be solved, but now, he had to find Jane. Samantha. If Jane was, in fact, Samantha. He motioned at the bags, they had dropped on entering, and the soft whoosh of air let him know brownies had the situation in hand.  
  
Jensen didn't even hear their conversation; the girl in the firelight had his attention. "My congratulations on your … congratulations," he stammered.  
  
"Jared, I do not know your friend," said the brunette, almost primly. Jensen wondered at her choice of words. The City elves were far more casual about introductions than the elves of the Hill.  
  
"I'm sorry, let me make him known to you, yes? This is Jensen, envoy from the--from his Hill. Jensen, this is Taylor."  
  
Before Jensen could take a breath to speak, her eyes widened. "Oh! Steve! That _hurts_! More than it did before."  
  
Jared's friend knelt next to her, one hand on her undulating belly. "Yeah. It will be soon, Taylor. Completely normal."  
  
Taylor paced before the fire wincing with each contraction. She smiled at Steve between them. "They're closer now." She patted her belly. "We are well. Won't be long now."  
  
From a hallway, a stranger with dark brown hair, wearing a tan jacket and a bow around his shirt collar came forward. Jensen took his eyes off Taylor long enough to look at him with suspicion. He could see the stranger was elven from the ears peeking through his hair; he watched Taylor, but spoke to Jensen . "You can trust me," he said earnestly, "I'm the doctor."  
  
"Matt!" Steve greeted him.  
  
She panted again and grabbed the doctor's arm. "Ready to go."  
  
Matt looked at Steve, who shrugged at Jared, and by extension, Jensen. "Babies don't wait for anyone."  
  
Steve nodded. He and Matt helped Taylor out of the room, and Jensen could feel Jared's gaze on him, watching them go.  
  
"We don't have children, Jared. We are dying," said Jensen, quietly.  
  
Jared looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Jake was the last child born in our Hill."  
  
Jared stared at him, mouth gaping, and the Hill gave off an alarm.  
  
Steve walked through the room, and nodded. "It's Ajax."  
  
It was, but he was not alone. The dverger pushed Jake before him, wearing his grey cloak and habitual scowl.  
  
"Caught him sneaking out as I was leaving," grumbled Ajax. “Figured it was quicker to bring him with."  
  
Jared's head snapped up, and Ajax waved a hand. "I called Morgan."  
  
Steve looked at the three of them. "Ajax?"  
  
"I'll be looking at the furnace. You got him?" he asked Jared.  
  
"My ward," answered Jensen. "I have him."  
  
Ajax shrugged and followed Steve through a different door than the one he'd come in from.  
  
"I am fully in my rights to drag you back to the Hill by your ear. You have Sanctuary, why did you leave?" asked Jared sternly.  
  
"What I am looking for is not at the Museum," answered Jake sullenly, "can you believe Morgan brought me a bogey?"  
  
Jensen laughed, and Jared couldn't help but join in.  
  
Jared nodded at the chessboard set on a table near the fireplace. "Do you play?"  
  
Jensen nodded. "Jake and I play often."  
  
"I have to see to someone else's problem, will that entertain you while you wait?" asked Jared.  
  
There was something going on here, thought Jensen, that Jared did not care to have Jake know. He nodded with a smile. "I will let you play white, Jake."  
  
They settled over the chessboard, and Jared left the room.  
  
Jake played quickly, impulsively, and Jensen drew the game out to allow Jared time for his errand. Bread and cheese appeared on the table, and the Hill elves ate and played for what seemed like a very long time. Jared returned, and sat to watch, Jensen thought he would be a formidable opponent, if they ever had a chance to play.  
  
Footsteps echoed in the large room, and two men, hands joined, came through a doorway. "Jensen!"  
  
"Richard!" exclaimed Jensen, standing in surprise, "and Mark! We had thought you dead!"  
  
The elves embraced, and Jared looked fondly on the reunion. Jake just looked confused.  
  
Jensen smiled at Jared. "This is Mark," he gestured at the taller elf, "and Richard. Of My Hill!" He looked at Jake, trying to decide how to introduce him. Jake had been a child when the two elves had disappeared. He chose the flat reality. "This is Jake."  
  
Richard's head jerked. "Jake?" He looked at Jensen for confirmation. He nodded, and Richard shuffled his feet uneasily. "Your highness."  
  
Mark stood proudly. "No prince of mine. Your father forbade us our joining, so we left. Why did you think we were dead?"  
  
"Why, that is what we were told," said Jensen. "what Robert told us." It made Jensen wonder. He knew Robert had misled him for years, to discover he had lied to the entire Hill made Jensen question his motives.  
  
Richard shook his head. "We tried for the City, but it was not to be. Jared and Steve saw us settled here."  
  
Robert and Mark had time to tell Jensen about their lives before a tiny cry came from down the hallway, and an unseen chorus of elves sang a welcome to the newest of their people. Steve came back, shaking his head. "Everything seems to happen at once around here. Come on, welcome the baby!" he turned and led them to the bower.  
  
Taylor was tucked into a bed with an arch of blooming flowers and ripe fruit stretched over it. She smiled sleepily at them. "A son. I have a healthy son!" she exclaimed.  
  
Matt finished tucking dirtied linens into a basket, and met Jared's eyes. "A fine, healthy boy. Who cannot live in the City."  
  
Jake fell to his knees, next to Jensen. "A miracle!" he said, in awe.  
  
With a whoosh, warm air surrounded them, and Steve grinned. "Sure is, the heat's on."  
  
The elf maidens tending Taylor shed their cloaks, and Jensen could see they were all pregnant. Jensen looked at Jared, who nodded slowly.  
  
"We never know in advance. All our births take place here. You can see why it's our most important secret." He looked pointedly at Jake, but the boy only had eyes for Taylor and the tiny bundle nursing at her breast.  
____________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared looked at Jensen as they walked homeward. "You're awfully quiet."  
  
"I am not sure what to make of this, or what to ask you first," Jensen said. "So many elves with child. Mark and Robert. Did you see the look on Jake's face?"  
  
Jared smiled. Jensen was as animated as he'd seen him, and the sullen look seemed to have vanished from Jake's face. Jared had decided to leave him in Steve's care. The Hidden Hill's folk would let him see yet another way of doing things that differed from what he was used to, keep an eye on him and put him to work. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"What is your vow? Exactly."  
  
Jensen stopped walking, and looked searchingly at Jared. "I vowed not to lie with anyone--no, I will tell you the whole of it." He thought for a moment. "I had come into my manhood, my father was dead. Our numbers were dwindling. Robert asked me which of the elves I wanted to pair with, and my eyes drifted to Aldis. He clapped my shoulder and laughed, then came to me later with an offer. We had no protector, no Paladin. If I would swear not to lie with any man until I could bring a child to the Hill, he would grant me the honor, see me trained and sworn. The skills he offered, with bow, with sword, they were unbelievable to me."  
  
"He manipulated you," said Jared. This too, was his fault. If Jensen's father had lived he would surely have encouraged his son not to choose this path.  
  
"Yes." He looked miserable. "It does not matter, Jared. From here, I could put out the light in front of your house with an arrow, were I to call on my skills. What is sworn is sworn."  
  
They walked the rest of the way in silence.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
The living room was spotless, and Jensen looked around for his weapons.  
  
Chad slid down the stair railing on his feet, and leapt to the top of the newel post.  
  
Jared grinned at him. "No more X-Games for you."  
  
Jensen was shocked to see the brownie stick his tongue out at Jared, but Jared only laughed, and turned to hang his cloak.  
  
"How's Taylor? Did Ajax fix the furnace? Did the elfling come back with you?" The brownie took a breath. "Jensen, I have moved your things to the guest room, upstairs, second door to the left."  
  
"Taylor's fine, as is her son," Jared answered. "You were right, no City for them. Ajax fixed the furnace. A couple of weeks at Hidden will do wonders for the elfling, and I think Jensen will be glad of a bed."  
  
Jensen looked at Jared. "Weeks?"  
  
The fond grin Jared turned on him made Jensen feel as if his skin was too small.  
  
"Time runs differently in the Hill, remember? Morgan will fetch him later, and then we will see if I made the right decision." He looked hard at Jensen. "You say Spring Green is a good place. Would your King welcome new people again?"  
  
"You mean those in your Hidden Hill?"  
  
"I mean Taylor and her son. Jake was quite taken with her."  
  
"Robert would deny Jake nothing. He never has. It is why he is so difficult. What are you thinking?" asked Jensen.  
  
Jared shrugged. "Let's just wait and see." He yawned, and so did Jensen.  
  
"Come on, let me show you to your room."  
  
"Better show him how the stuff in the bathroom works, hedonist!" called Chad.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
"Jensen," called Chad.  
  
He woke swiftly, and blinked the sleep from his eyes, drawing the tangle of his hair behind him.  
  
"I've left you some clean clothes here on the chair. There is tea on the table next to you. Jared's taking you to breakfast at the Museum, and Chris's cooking is not to be missed."  
  
Jensen hurried to get ready, embarrassed by the sensual massage of the shower in the guest bathroom. He struggled with the fastening of the unfamiliar garments, but thought he had managed correctly before he left the room to meet Jared in the foyer. His host wore a thick pullover, embellished with knotwork, the creamy wool hugging his broad shoulders and ending at his hips.  
  
The appreciative look Jared turned on him warmed Jensen to his toes. "It's cold out this morning. You could wear your own clothing, but the less glamour we need to cast the better. We'll be out in the City among humans."  
  
Jensen nodded and Jared held out another pullover. It was similar, but not the same as Jared's, the color a tawny beige, and Jensen looked at him curiously. The garment was an heirloom, even among elves. Chad took a sharp breath from behind him on the stairpost, as Jared said, "My mother was a knitter." He didn't explain any further.  
  
Jensen pulled the garment over his head. It was soft and warm, fit him perfectly. "It is gracious of you to loan me such a personal treasure." He pulled his silken hair from beneath the sweater, and tied it into a club at the back of his head with the leather thong on his wrist. "Will I do?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Jared breathed.  
  
Startled, Jensen looked at him. There was affection in Jared's look, and regret that hardened to certainty in his eyes.  
  
"It suits you," he said, drawing a jacket from the closet near the door. "You should keep it."  
  
There was an undercurrent that Jensen couldn't identify in the conversation, sure that he was missing something, but Jared's smile when he draped the cloak over Jensen's shoulders was the one he was used to, as if nothing had happened.  
  
Chad cleared his throat, and Jensen turned to look at him. The brownie held out Jensen's brooch, and Jensen used it to pin his cloak in place. Jared held the door open, and Jensen could hear Chad muttering something about handkerchiefs as they passed through and the door closed behind them.  
  
It was cold. It had snowed while he slept, the winter sunlight making the light dusting on the ground sparkle. He could see why Jared loved the City, it was never twice the same, and he thought he would miss it when he left.  
  
The Museum was before them in moments, but instead of going up the marble steps, Jared drew him to a side door. "Kitchen's this way." His breath frosted in the chill air.  
  
"Jared, wait. What has happened? Something is different this morning."  
  
With a grin, Jared said, "Nothing that wasn't inevitable. Come on, breakfast is waiting." He reached for the glass door in front of him, and it made a clicking noise before he pushed it open.  
  
Jared shed his jacket, hanging it on a handy hook, but Jensen kept his cloak. The floor inside was checked black and white, and there were a number of tables. Jared led him to one, where glasses had been placed and patted a stool before sitting on the one next to it.  
  
Jensen looked at the plate in front of him. Peach slices surrounded a pink mound of diced ham with a perfectly poached egg on top. He looked up and met the gaze of piercing blue--human--eyes.  
  
.jpg" >  
  
"This is beautiful, like sunrise on a plate."  
  
"Thanks," drawled the human. "Food is what I do now."  
  
Jensen pierced the yolk with the knife from his place setting, "You did something else, once?"  
  
Chris placed an identical plate, along with a platter of hash browns in front of Jared.  
  
"You remember Chris, Jensen?" He forked a mouthful of potatoes into his mouth and chewed, eyes closed. He made a blissful noise, and swallowed. "Time you had a formal introduction."  
  
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Chris," said Jensen.  
  
"Any Sidhe Jared vouches for, I'm pleased to meet as well."  
  
Jensen looked questioningly at Jared.  
  
"Chris's story to tell." He wiped his mouth with the napkin thrust at him. He nodded in thanks and straightened, formal and serious. "I vow, Jensen is trustworthy. I should not have to, he is a paladin."  
  
"As Jared says," Jensen agreed. He unfastened the brooch to remove the cloak, and Chris's eyes widened. "May I..." His fingers reached out toward Jensen.  
  
"The brooch, Jensen." Jared gestured at him.  
  
Jensen held it in his palm. "It's old. I've had it for a very long time."  
  
Sighing, Chris ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, setting the beads in it chiming. "I'm a divvy."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A divvy. I have a curse--"  
  
Jared made an objecting noise.  
  
"All right, all right, a gift. I can tell things about art, about antiques. If they are real or forgeries." His fingers ghosted over the brooch and his eyes widened. "Unbroken provenance. It was made for you in--"  
  
"Chris?" Morgan's voice was rough from sleep as he padded in, bare-chested in drawstring cotton pants.  
  
"Here." He handed the brooch back to Jensen.  
  
Morgan set his hands on Chris's hips, and the human leaned back into the kiss at his temple with a soft smile.  
  
"Morning."  
  
"Telling a story? The story?"  
  
"Mmmhmmm."  
  
"Well, get on with it, then. It makes you unhappy, and I have to meet with the dryad triad at noon, doesn't leave me much cheering up time. Morning Jared, Jensen."  
  
"Sit." Chris got another identical plate, and handed it to Morgan, who sat across from Jared. Chris got his own plate and sat next to him, across from Jensen, whose look was carefully blank, then barked a laugh. "I'm sorry, man, I guess it's a lot to take in."  
  
Jared finished the last of his food, and looked at Jensen. He started to speak and nodded at Chris. "Finish the first part, then we'll move on."  
  
"Okay. The short version then." He bumped Morgan's shoulder. "Since, you know, it didn't turn out that badly."  
  
Morgan pulled him close with the hand that wasn't shoveling food into his mouth.  
  
"Alona, have you met Alona, yet?"  
  
Jensen looked at Chris. "Blonde, willowy. Healer? Chooses 'movies'? "  
  
"Ah," agreed Chris. "Yes. Alona brought Jared to the shop where I worked."  
  
Jared tapped the silver toe caps of his boots against the rung of his stool.  
  
Chris grinned. "The silver she was looking at was worthless, except for being silver. It was not an antique snuff box. I guess she told him I was fading, and Jared here freed me. My patron, the owner of the shop, was leanansidhe."  
  
Jensen inhaled sharply.  
  
"Yeah. I lived. He brought me here to recover. Alona has something of a clinic downstairs. You done with that?" He motioned at Jensen's empty plate.  
  
"My gratitude for this meal, although words are meager thanks for such fare," he said formally, and wondered if it was proper to thank a human.  
  
Gathering up the plates and suppressing a pleased smile, Chris still rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' elves. Jeff, you want me to let the kid sleep in?"  
  
"I'll get him up, Chris. He had a restless night." Morgan shot Jared a look that spoke volumes about Jake's reunion with his bogey. He glanced at Chris. "Think you can teach him to open a bottle of beer?"  
  
Jared laughed. "First job in the City is always helping out in the bar. You should be glad you ended up with me, instead of Morgan."  
  
Chris looked at Jensen. "That door," he pointed to an interior exit, "will take you into the Museum. The first gallery on the left is the Wright exhibit."  
  
"I've turned off the alarms, touch to your heart's content," added Morgan.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jensen stood above the pool at the center of the Museum. The Wright exhibit had left his heart aching, but it was good to see how the changeling was honored. He caught his reflection, and almost did not recognize the elf that looked back. Life in the Hill Court was orderly, predictable. This City was anything but, and Jensen could not stop looking at things, craning his head at color here, a pleasing line there. The Museum drew him, and he wished to spend more time there. This court had changed him; it was nothing like home, and he was ashamed to admit he liked it. Familiar steps sounded behind him.  
  
"Here, Jared," he said without turning around.  
  
There was a grunt of acknowledgement. "I have a lot of explaining to do?"  
  
"Only if you wish, I am a guest here, after all." Jensen dissembled, knowing some tales were not told outside the Hill. This was no Hill, and the rules he knew did not apply, but he thought that was probably universal. He turned, trying not to look as if he expected an explanation.  
  
Jared considered for a moment. "I have some explaining to do. Come outside. I think it will make more sense there."  
  
Jensen followed slowly. He wasn't sure he really wanted this explanation.  
  
Exiting the doors, Jared breathed deeply. The sun had warmed the marble stairs, and he patted the space next to him as he sat.  
  
"Look around you. The City is full of energy, of iron, of steel. It has music and magic of its own. Most of all it gives us life, and there is precious little we take for granted."  
  
Jensen sat, wondering where the conversation was leading.  
  
A construction crew had barricaded off the pothole on the street in front of the Museum, and burly men with hard hats scratched their heads, looking at it. "Look there, that is where you could have been killed. A human would have been. Another Hill elf might have been. We have to be careful, we have to stay hidden."  
  
"Yet, you hunt your own. In aid of humans, Jared!" Jensen fairly shook with emotion. Forty-seven elves in the Hill. They could not afford any losses.  
  
Jared gave him a long look. "You mean the leanansidhe that held Chris in her thrall."  
  
"He said you freed him. I know how that is done, Jared, you killed her with a blackthorn dagger and burned her heart. How could you? There are so few of us, and it is their nature!"  
  
"We change, Jensen. There are not few of us here, there are many. There are more than a thousand Fae with two leanansidhe in the City right now. Both of them are patrons of the arts, and neither of them kill the humans we live among. There is enough here for them to glut themselves without exposing all of us, which is what would have happened. I protect us. That's what I have to do."  
  
"Not so different from what I do. Although, I protect the Sidhe from the lesser Folk." He struggled to put his feelings into words. "Your king consorts with a human - a human male! I am striving to comprehend, but I do not."  
  
"Our King is a madman who lives in the tunnels beneath the City. Morgan has been handling our business for many years, and while he is no king, he's trusted." Jared hesitated. "I hadn't thought you were a prude. Weren't you happy to see Richard and Mark?""  
  
"It is not allowed, forbidden. It is not normal, surely you understand that. It is Robert's rule!"  
  
Oh? thought Jared, that explains a lot. "Robert's rules are a good way to run--oh, _your_ Robert. There is precious little that is 'not allowed' here, Jensen. We have simple rules. Stay secret. Fit in. Help one another. Love where you find it. Don't be an asshat."  
  
"A what?" interrupted Jensen, unfamiliar with the term.  
  
Jared waved off the question. "Treat each other well. That's pretty much it. And no, I do not understand. You said Jake was the last child born of your Hill. Jensen, a hundred years? Perhaps a change--" he stopped. "I'm sorry, Jensen. It is not my place."  
  
Jensen wondered what Robert would say about this society. He had to ask. "It is allowed here? Male consorts? Relationships with humans? Robert made me vow not to lie with men, Jared, to bring children to the Hill. Is it because you have no acting King?" Jensen's thoughts raced. "Why has no one deposed your King?"  
  
"His son will not, and no one else has the right," Jared said flatly.  
  
He was stone faced, jaw clenched, looking out into the City. Jensen wondered if he had overstepped the bounds of hospitality. They sat for some time, Jensen sure he had hurt Jared's feelings.  
  
Abruptly, Jared sighed heavily. "There is no stigma in the City against partners of the same sex. Hell, I'd be driven out if there were." Jensen breathed steadily and deliberately. He told himself he was being mindful of his ribs. Not, in the slightest bit like the Hill, and not at all his heart's desire.  
  
"A blind eye is often useful. Morgan's love is his to give, and Chris," he said sadly, "is human. Fleeting."  
  
They watched the City work crew gesture and measure in silence.  
  
A limousine pulled up and three small brunettes stepped out. They were dressed alike, long black leather coats, and they walked in step. Jensen was intrigued.  
  
Jared poked him. "The dryad triad."  
  
"Those are dryads? One of them is a male!"  
  
With an undignified whoop, the trio surrounded Jared, hugging him, patting him and talking rapidly about things Jensen did not understand. Jared hugged them each in turn, but with reserve Jensen had not seen from him, as if their intimacy was unwelcome. They smiled at him, and bowed as one, the male looked longingly at Jared. "Offer's still open," he said.  
  
Jared shook his head, with a smile, and he shrugged. "I'll keep trying." The dryads bowed , and returned to their synchronized walk into the Museum.  
  
Jensen looked at Jared in utter confusion.  
  
"This is the City, Jensen. It's all different here. Their names are Sandy, Genevieve and Misha. A tree called for him and he was accepted. "  
  
"His mother let him go?" asked Jensen, shocked.  
  
Jared's look was bleak. "His mother was dead. The tree nurtured him, kept him. He is a dryad."  
  
"This is very strange to me."  
  
"Yeah. Was to us, too, but it's about surviving. You want to go to the conservatory? Where they live?"  
  
"To heal my wounds?" Jensen looked at the step beneath him. The lore said dryads healed with sex. "I … there is no spark there." It was the closest he had come to admitting he was unnatural, and while the male--Misha--was attractive, he already had his hands full with his attraction to the elf next to him. "I am not allowed that."  
  
"I meant only to see more of the city, how we live," said Jared, with surprise. "I'm not trying to hook you up with the triad."  
  
"I would, then, like to see this conservatory. Hook me up?"  
  
Jared laughed and waved his hand to indicate it was unimportant. "How's the hip? It's a bit of a walk."  
  
"I am fit enough."  
  
Jared looked into the distance, then at him, and Jensen felt a flush of heat. His vow to the King remained unbroken, but he wished it gone.  
  
"Let's go, then."  
  
Jared went down the stairs and started south.  
  
As they walked past the river, Jared glared at a doorway, gated with iron, and as far as Jensen could tell, sealed.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Something. It's coming from there, Jensen. I meant to look at it, but there hasn't been any time. Maybe tonight." He groaned. "Tonight, but late. I promised Alona I'd go see a band, tonight."  
  
Jensen straightened. "Would I be welcome?"  
  
Bursting into a smile, Jared's demeanor changed completely. "I would love that. We love our clubs, our music. It keeps us happy. Symphony, jazz, you name it, we have music like you've never heard."  
  
"We love our music, as well."  
  
They walked, comfortable in silence, toward a large snow covered space, and Jensen felt something loosen in his head. The land was open, not hemmed in by buildings, for all that there was a shoveled path.  
  
"Who decides where we walk?" he asked.  
  
"The path, you mean?"  
  
Jensen nodded.  
  
"The Parks Commission provides the labor and the paving. The Triad influences the Commission," explained Jared.  
  
"The dryads interact with humans?"  
  
"All the time. They are some of our best ambassadors to the humans, certainly some of the most effective."  
  
"How?" asked Jensen, clearly puzzled.  
  
"They're dryads, Jensen. They may not appeal to you, but believe me, those three shape a lot of policy that benefits us. The beach, the landing, the selkies owe them a huge debt--"  
  
Jensen's head jerked. "Selkies? I have never seen a selkie, but heard tell of them."  
  
Jared gestured expansively. "Under the snow and ice, that's a lake. A really great lake. It's huge. Not all selkies want saltwater. Ours, well, I don't think there are any around right now, given the weather, but you have seen the naiads at my place. The water in the River never freezes."  
  
"And you protect them, as well?"  
  
"Who else will?" asked Jared. "Should I allow them to become prey?" He looked out at the horizon.  
  
The fluttering of iridescent wings caught Jensen's eye, just as the corners of his cloak were lifted, and he and Jared were spun to face one another, the corners of Jensen's cloak placed in Jared's hands. "Dance, dance!" came tiny, discordant voices, and the smell of mint.  
  
  
  
A fond smiled cross Jared's face, then a shrug of apology, as he waltzed around Jensen, who spun in place. Jared dropped the cloak, and bowed, the pixies finally slowing down enough to be visible. There were five of them, he saw, and Jared was fumbling in his pocket. At home, he would have batted them down, or spelled them into a box, but this was not his place, so he waited for Jared's cue.  
  
Jared shook back his hair, dark tendrils framing his face, the tips of his ears peeking out as he offered his palm up, straightening as if to brace himself. In a flash, three of the pixies darted for his hand, then mantled their wings on his outstretched arm, while one snatched something from his palm to hover in midair, and the last one perched on Jared's shoulder.  
  
"Who's this? Who's this?" they asked. "Wintogreen! Wintogreen!"  
  
"Jensen, this is about half our pixie population."  
  
"Jensen! Jensen!"  
  
Pixies, thought Jensen, were an annoying nuisance with tiny shrill voices, who tied knots, and tangled hair. He looked at the pixie on Jared's shoulder, who was chattering quietly to an even smaller version of itself. Was everything in this City reproducing?  
  
"Half, you say?"  
  
"Shift change! Shift change!" they shrilled, and bit crisply into whatever they'd taken from Jared. Their wings glowed so brightly that Jensen squinted and then they were gone.  
  
"What... what?!" demanded Jensen.  
  
"There's something about Wintogreen Lifesavers that makes them glow even more. Come on, before the others show up."  
  
"You fed them."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Pixies! Robert banned them from the Hill for tangling our horse's manes and knotting our laces. Such horrible pests, always in the wrong place.” Jensen stopped, suddenly aware that he sounded like Alona's mocking of Jake, and felt ashamed.  
  
Jared carefully didn't look at the intricate lover's knot they had plaited in Jensen's hair. "It sounds like a lonely place."  
  
Jensen couldn't argue the point.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jensen followed Jared up the path, hesitating for a moment as he took a side path rather than the main. He tugged on a door that seemed unbalanced. Jared cursed, and heaved it into place by main strength, touching the hinge with a finger and speaking softly. Jensen could feel the rise of magic coming from--it took him a moment to recognize the magic came from Jared. Jensen was shocked. Jared was expending his personal magic on a _door_.  
  
Jared turned to him and smiled. "I love this place." He preceded Jensen into the building made of glass, gesturing Jensen past him. The door swung true, and Jared smiled softly. "Haven't lost my touch."  
  
Jensen looked at him inquisitively.  
  
"I don't work much with magic. I did everything in the house as humans do."  
  
Jared's house, thought Jensen, all the beautiful woodwork, without magic?  
  
"Wright and his people designed it without magic, it needed to be restored the same way," Jared said. "I feel like it doesn't honor them properly otherwise." He gestured in front of him. "This is the seedling room."  
  
Jensen looked at the benches around him. Tiny plants peeked through loamy dirt, reaching for the sun that warmed the room. He felt refreshed, warmed with the life of the growing plants. "What is this place?" he asked, loosening his cloak.  
  
"The conservatory," Jared said. "Kind of like a glade. We share it with humans, with the rest of the City."  
  
He led Jensen to another set of doors, but stopped short, and Jensen could feel a glamour settle over him. He looked at Jared, questioningly. "There will be humans inside," he said. "We really do share this space with them." He pushed open the doors and Jensen stepped into an enormous room, warm and alive with the smell of greenery. Jensen could smell dirt, trees, flowers, forced out of season, like the glade at home. "Who tends the flowers?" he asked, shedding his cloak as Jared took off his heavy jacket.  
  
"Jared. Jared."  
  
"The pixies," answered Jared. "Here's the half you've already met. The dryads tend the trees."  
  
"Pixies do this?" asked Jensen for confirmation. He had spent hours on his knees in contrition tending the plants in the glade.  
  
"Best gardeners in the City. You want to try feeding them?"  
  
Jensen shook his head and looked about him.  
  
There were dozens of people wandering the paths. Most of them were human, but there was a group of Elves, who were apparent to Jensen in spite of their glamour. He heard the unfinished voices of the young. He stretched to his toes to see, and spotted a group of five young elves sitting on rocks, listening intently to a woman whose head was wrapped in a scarf talking about pollination. Jensen saw each of the elflings wore a hat or a scarf to cover their ears.  
  
He looked more widely about the space, and saw humans walking with their own children, stopping to look at this, or that. There were others who did not look, but stood away from the gardens and poked at boxes like the ones Jared and Alona used. "Those others," he said, hesitantly, "don't seem interested in the plants."  
  
"Others?"  
  
"In formal clothing."  
  
"Oh. Them. City council. Nope, they're interested in the triad."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Jensen. What do the dryads do where you live?"  
  
"I have not seen a dryad since Robert closed the Hill."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
Jensen shook his head, no.  
  
"The dryads, they like... sex."  
  
Shocked, Jensen's eyes went wide. "With humans? At home that is only permitted to make... progeny. Do you … mate with the dryads?"  
  
"Me? Hell, no. What decisions I make, I try to make with thoughtful reflection." Jared stopped dead and gaped at Jensen. "You don't -- well your people -- have sex for fun?"  
  
"What?" exclaimed Jensen. "No. I am celibate. For the others, spending outside of reproduction is frowned upon.”  
  
"Oh, Jensen." Jared looked at him with great sadness, and tugged at his trousers, as if they were suddenly uncomfortable.  
  
Jensen's eyes were drawn to them, and he felt his conviction to the laws of the Hill waver.  
Jared tugged the small box out of his pocket and Jensen heard him curse under his breath. He collected himself and looked at Jensen "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I am well, provided I do not have to fight anything large."  
  
"No fighting. This is range day," explained Jared. "Would you like to see?"  
  
There was a rustle of movement, and many of the elves began to make their way to the exit.  
  
"See?" asked Jensen.  
  
Jared looked at him thoughtfully. "I said we trained with ranged weapons at the park, which is nearby. I am supposed to supervise a class in archery today, but if you don't feel well enough--"  
  
Jensen smiled and shook his head. "I would love to watch, but I did not bring my bow."  
  
"You can use one of mine. Unless--"  
  
"No, my bow is serviceable, and I am used to it, but I would welcome the opportunity to try another." He was eager to see what improvements these elves had made.  
  
They donned their warm clothing and left through the seedling room, walking not one hundred paces. Jensen could see targets set up in the distance, and a small group of people standing. He was surprised to see Chris and Alona waiting for them.  
  
"Chris is a good shot, " said Jared quietly, as they approached. "Alona is an archer."  
  
Jensen nodded. He felt the frisson of a concealing glamor drop over the group, and the smallest of the gathered elves readied their arrows. Jensen smiled his approval. Archery was a lifelong practice. It aided in concentration and discipline, even if the grocery deliveries at Jared's home made it plain City elves needn't hunt.  
  
Alona was speaking softly to the elflings, and gestured at a target that Jensen reckoned was 50 paces away. "Now." she said. All eight of the youngsters hit the target, and Jensen covered his surprise with some effort. Jake had been older than the largest when he hit that distance. The elflings shot again, at the next target, nearly 70 paces in the distance. Only one arrow failed to reach the target, but it was the tallest, rather than the fierce elf maiden who barely reached his waist, that fell short. Chris stepped up and hit the bullseye, a fair shot that made him smile, and he turned his head to wink at Jensen. The grown elves shot at moderate targets. Chris and Alona worked with the elflings, correcting a stance, refining a draw, working with them just as he would, had he a pupil to tutor. He watched them work for an hour, and the group of young elves took their leave, along with the adults.  
  
Jared had wandered from his side to the rack of bows near the shooting station. He came back with three very different weapons; a beautiful yew longbow, something shaped like a bow, garish pink with metal circles and string that Jensen had no hope of understanding, and yet a third, black, and made of no wood Jensen could name. With a shrug, Jensen chose the black bow. It was at least shaped like what he was used to, and he liked to try new things.  
  
"We teach the kids with wooden bows. Then," said Jared with a grin, "we have some fun with technology. Are you well enough to shoot?"  
  
No challenge was implied, and Jared stood easy, but Jensen had something to prove. He threw back his cloak, sighted the bow, and held out a hand. Jared gave him an arrow, fletched blue. Jensen aimed at the farthest target, he thought it 150 paces, and released the string. The arrow thunked into the center of the target.  
  
Alona laughed with delight. "Finally!" she exclaimed. She took her stance and placed her arrow next to his, the fletching on her arrow a bright yellow. Chris laughed joyfully, then shot his own arrow, fletched purple on the other side. Jared shook his head in mock chagrin and placed his shot just below Jensen's.  
  
Jensen's respect rose. The City elves still kept the traditions and a new target appeared 50 paces past the first. Chris shot first, hitting two rings shy of the bullseye. The human shook his head. "I guess I'm cooking tonight. On three," he counted off, "one, two, three."  
  
The elves shot, Jensen and Alona hitting square in the center, and Jared just out of the sweet spot. He stepped back with Chris. "I'll sous."  
  
Another target, 25 more paces, and Alona looked calculatingly at Jensen. "Further?"  
  
"I am confident at this distance. 25 more paces would be a challenge." He arched a brow at her.  
  
It was only a moment before the target was moved and arrows flew. Jared held a viewer to his eyes, and smiled. "Paired. You have a lovely dinner in store."  
  
The range gnomes took down the targets and Jensen shook Alona's hand. "Good shooting. 300 paces is no small feat."  
  
"We will have another time, we will," promised Alona.  
  
Jensen bowed. He saw no reason to reveal that paladin skills would let him shoot twice the distance easily.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Chris and Jared kept up a steady stream of conversation as they worked. Jensen looked around the kitchen in the private section of the Museum. The upper floor was light and airy. Three of the walls were windowed and looked out over the park, and beyond the trees, the snow covered expanse that Jared had told him was a lake. To the right, the lights of the tall buildings began to glow in the growing dusk. If he looked behind him, he could look down the street where Jared lived.  
  
Alona watched him. "Do you like it?"  
  
"I am not used to being in the open when I am not in the open," admitted Jensen, "nor to have such height above the ground."  
  
"Jake says it's not a proper Hill." She leaned back in her chair. "We have always thought that the people make the Hill, whether we live under one or not."  
  
Jensen thought about that for a moment. His Hill was certainly made of people. Alona had a way of making him reconsider what he'd always assumed.  
  
On the heels of that thought, Jake and Morgan came into the room. Jake yawned, and Jensen was shocked at how tired the young elf looked. Morgan gave him a gleeful grin, and winked at Alona. A shadow behind Jake didn't fit with the objects in the room and Jensen gave it a sharp look, identifying it quickly as the bogey. He had to duck his head to hide his own grin, and Alona gave his booted foot a gentle nudge.  
  
The whir of wings made him look up, and Jake opened his mouth to cast the spell used in the Hill to box the flying creatures.  
  
It squealed in fright, and tumbled out of the air into Jared's chest.  
  
He caught the pixie and glared at Jake, but Alona was already standing between them.  
  
"What is WRONG with you?" she demanded.  
  
"It's a pixie, a pest."  
  
"Were you raised by humans, Jake? They are Fae like us, this is not your Hill, and you are a guest in this house!" She grimaced and turned to Chris. "Sorry." He nodded.  
  
"They are nothing like us. I cannot wait to be home." Jake's expression hardened from petulance to outright hostility.  
  
From behind him came a piercing whisper. "Badly behaved child."  
  
Jake yelped, and looked around him in fright.  
  
Jared held the pixie in one arm, and searched his pockets with the other. He looked up at Jensen. "Can you get the roll of candy out of my jacket?"  
  
Jensen nodded and crossed the room to the pegs where their outer garments hung. He made quick work of finding the candy and handed it to Jared, who took one.  
  
"You want --" he began, but Jensen shook his head and went back to the table, pocketing the rest of the candy. That pixies were fae, he could accept. To feed them, well, he wasn't ready to do that, not yet.  
  
Alona sat down again, still glaring at Jake.  
  
Another poke from the shadowy form brought Jake to his feet. "I--" he stammered. “I beg pardon for my bad behavior."  
  
Jensen swallowed the reprimand that was forming in his mouth, and looked around the room. Everyone looked as surprised as he felt, including Jake.  
  
"Sit down," growled Morgan. He turned and looked at Chris. "Shall I open the wine?"  
  
"I think you'd better," Jared said, as the pixie winked out of sight.  
  
He and Chris brought heaping platters and bowls to the table, Almost all the food was unfamiliar to Jensen, but it was good. Chris was explaining something about pumpkins and ravioli, and browned butter, and Jensen let the feeling of warm welcome wash over him.  
  
When they were finished, and the table cleared, Jared rested his forearms on the table and looked at them earnestly. "I'm glad we're all here, so I can tell this just once. While we were at Hidden, Steve told me that Jane's disappeared."  
  
"Jane?" Alona asked. "Jared, she's blind, we need to find her!"  
  
Jared looked uncomfortable for a moment, and looked at Jake and Jensen. "I think, maybe, our Jane is your Samantha."  
  
"What?" asked Jensen.  
  
"We call her Jane," Alona explained, "because she doesn't remember anything about herself. I found her one morning when I went for a run. She was lying on the embankment, like she'd crawled there, or washed out. That was the year we had the floods."  
  
"That was a hell of a day," said Morgan. "Alona called Jared, and they brought her back to the clinic, downstairs."  
  
"Right," agreed Alona. "I went up to tell Donnelly the water was receding, and I meant to tell him about Jane, when he dropped his circlet on the floor and walked out, the bastard."  
  
"He may be the elder brother," Jensen said, "but I assure you Sheppard and Mab were well and truly wed before the birth."  
  
"Figure of speech," said Alona, apologetically.  
  
"So, wait--you think this Jane is my mother?" asked Jake, incredulously. He was halfway out of his chair. "She's been here all along?"  
  
Morgan waved at him to sit, and to his credit, Jake did.  
  
"I know you want to rush out and find her, as do I," said Jared, "but I don't know where to look. The Fae are all on the lookout, but no one has seen her, that's what the pixie came to tell me. Jake, she doesn't remember anything, and there's more." He took a deep breath. "She's blind, as Alona said, and iron burns her. If she is your Samantha, I think she's gone after the eyes."  
  
Jake's head dropped to his hands, and his shoulders shook.  
  
Alona stood, then walked around the table to where Jake sat. "We'll find her."  
  
Jake nodded. "May I please be excused?" he asked, voice thick with tears.  
  
"You may," said Morgan.  
  
Jake got up and went down the hall to his room.  
  
Jensen knew he'd been right, now where was he going to find his friend?  
  
"We'll find her," echoed Jared.  
  
Morgan stood. "We need to be seen. I know you had plans to go to the Club tonight, you should go."  
  
Looking at Jensen, Jared said "I don't know."  
  
"Your people--your Hill," he corrected, "need to see you going about your business."  
  
Alona smiled at him in approval.  
  
"Most of them are not fighters, Jensen. They are shopkeepers, teachers, philosophers," she waved a hand in the air to include anyone she hadn't mentioned. "We need to be seen where they can come and talk to us informally."  
  
"Kings," Jensen said, and nodded.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Chad fussed for an hour, bringing clothing from an unknown stash. Finally, Jared's white button-down shirt was pronounced satisfactory. He tucked it into blue pants, that were called jeans. They were made of cotton that washing had softened. Jensen stroked a similar pair that Chad had assured him were appropriate to the occasion. His shirt was a muted green, Chad had squealed with delight and said it brought out the color of his eyes. It was different than Jared's, Chad called it a Henley shirt, but Jensen had no idea what that meant, save that he was not to button it shut. The leaf ends of his torc peeked out at the open neck. Pointed, heeled boots appeared at his feet, and Jared grinned.  
  
"Cowboy boots."  
  
Jensen slipped his feet into them, walking carefully in the unaccustomed heels. He knew he was presentable enough, but Jared's appreciative look warmed him. He gestured at his hair. The silver mass fell to his waist, and it would not do to leave it loose, no one he had seen in the City had hair like his. Chad hopped to the table on the balcony and whistled. There was a conversation he could not hear as Jared offered him jacket after jacket from his closet.  
  
A soft knock at the open door drew his attention. A river naiad stood there, with a mischievous look in her eyes. She was naked, he noticed, before Chad magicked a towel around her, to both their amusement. "I left my clothes in the kitchen, Chad, they were wet!"  
  
The brownie "tsked" but he was chuckling, and waved a hand at Jensen, who looked at the intricate dreadlocks she wore and understood what Chad intended. He backed away.  
  
"No, no dreads for you. Something more elegant." She waved the golden comb, and Jensen flinched, as Jared's eyes widened. "No worries, I asked," she said, grinning.  
  
In moments, she had braided his hair flat over the top of his head. In the mirror, he could see it was woven much like a basket, drawing close to the back of his head. She held out her hand, and Chad brought her a ribbon, the same green as Jensen's shirt, which she wrapped with his hair into a businesslike plait.  
  
"It's lovely," he said. Jared's expression gave him all the confirmation he needed.  
  
"You can tuck it in, or leave it out," she said, stealing a kiss as she ran to the balcony and dove over the side.  
  
"That one," pointed Chad. Jared held out a leather jacket in the deep green of forest night. It was cut simply, and fit Jensen as if it had been tailored for him.  
  
Chad snapped his fingers, and a soft scarf wrapped itself loosely around his neck. "You'll want this, I suspect." He held out Jensen's brooch, enormous in his hand, and Jensen took it from him, turning it, and handed it back to the brownie.  
  
"Hold it safe. Tonight, I am a City elf."  
  
Chad nodded in satisfaction. "You'll do. The black one for you, Jared, the one you wear by preference." He snapped his fingers again, and a cloud of scent fell about Jensen. Pine and moss and forest, and he breathed it in. Home, but Jared smelled of sharp spices and a hint of chocolate."  
  
Jared grinned. "I'd look like a ragamuffin without you, Chad."  
  
"You would," he agreed. "Jensen has style."  
  
Jared looked at Jensen. "We can walk, it's not very far, or we can take a cab. Your choice."  
  
Jensen shuddered. "I would prefer to walk. I have been close enough to your cabs."  
  
"As you wish. Chad, don't wait up."  
  
When Jensen turned around, the room was tidy again, the piles of discarded clothing gone, as was the brownie.  
  
"Where does he go?" he asked Jared.  
  
"I make it a point not to ask, but he has an entire house he is refinishing, you can ask him about it in the morning."  
  
"We don't talk to our brownies at home," Jensen mused. "I never gave it a thought."  
  
"You probably don't thank them either."  
  
"Thank them! We learn not to do that from the cradle!"  
  
Jared laughed. "That's true of most brownies, anyway. When I thank Chad, he goes to Alona's. When she appreciates him, he goes to Morgan's. He likes Chris. Chris always thanks him. Beautiful manners. The longest he's ever been gone from me is three months." He leaned close and whispered, "I'd be lost without him."  
  
"I heard that!" the tiny voice called. "Don't think I won't use it!"  
  
Jensen shook his head. Nothing like the Hill.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
This club was very near the Museum. Jared told him, as they walked, that the City owned many such entertainments, and they would visit several in the course of the evening.  
  
Chris and Morgan were already there, holding a table, and Alona swept in moments later with a stocky dverger. "This is Comet," she said by way of introduction. "You probably don't remember him, but he helped us get you to Jared's house."  
  
Comet extended his hand and Jensen took it, as he had seen the humans do, clasping it firmly. "You have my gratitude." He had never seen dvergers before coming to the City, he thought they were treated like the other fae, and Jared's approving nod let him know he had responded correctly.  
  
Jensen looked around him. There was little light, and most of it came from the ceiling at the edges of the room, and candles set on the tables. Chris patted the chair next to him, indicating that Jensen should sit there. He wore a soft golden shirt that was made of silk from the way it fell, poorly disguising his well muscled frame. Morgan wore a soft dark sweater, over the same sort of trousers Jensen wore, only they were darker.  
  
Jared pulled a chair back from the table, and gestured to Alona, who was all in black, a short skirt exposing her shapely legs, and Jensen looked up, at her face. She wore bright lipstick and her hair was swept up off her neck. To Jensen, she was dressed indecently, but Chris and Morgan smiled, and Jared said softly, "You look fantastic."  
  
Alona grinned back, and pushed the chair back in with her foot, taking Comet's hand and making her way to a wooden part of the floor where many people, both human and fae, gyrated in time with the music.  
  
Jared ordered a beer from the human server that stopped at their table, and Jensen was at a loss. What could he ask for, in such a strange place? Chris had a squat glass with ice and a clear brown liquid, Morgan a taller one with darker contents. Morgan looked at the server. " A diet soda for our friend, please."  
  
Jared raised an eyebrow.  
  
He needn't have worried. Jensen took one sip when it came, and frowned. "What is this?"  
  
"Diet Coke," answered Morgan, with a happy smile. "It has an intoxicating effect on us. One of the good things the humans have developed over the years."  
  
Jensen returned the smile, and shook his head. Another time, perhaps."  
  
Jared slid his untouched beer across the table. "Beer?"  
  
Taking a sip, Jensen let the flavors roll over his tongue and nodded. He slid the Diet Coke toward Morgan, who saluted him with it, took a long swallow, and sighed contentedly. Chris looked at him fondly, and sipped his own drink. Morgan shrugged. "Signed the contracts today for the second half of the tour. I'm celebrating."  
  
Alona and Comet came back to the table, laughing. He pulled a chair out for her and she collapsed into it, fanning herself. "Dancing is hot work."  
  
Jensen watched them, laughing and talking about Fae he didn't know, places he hadn't been. They were comfortable with one another, and he envied their ease. He smiled, and Jared touched his hand where it sat on the table to get his attention. Jensen felt the heat blaze up his arm and hammer against the torc. He moved his hand and gave Jared a rueful smile. There was apology and regret in Jared's eyes, and Jensen felt a wave of sadness. He would never have anything but Jared's friendship. He had begun to want so much more.  
  
Morgan laughed, startling them out of the moment of intimacy, and Jared looked away. Chris was standing already, hauling Morgan to his feet. "Come on, let's walk home, clear your head."  
  
Morgan laughed again, and threw his arm over Chris's shoulder. "Whatever would I do without you?"  
  
The flash of sorrow in Chris's eyes was quickly hidden; Jensen knew Chris's secret, he was well aware his time with Morgan was finite, and all the more precious for it.  
  
Alona and Comet went back to the dance floor, and Jared looked at Jensen wryly. "Dance club not what you were expecting?"  
  
"I had thought of live performance," Jensen admitted. "I like the repetitive beat, and watching the dancers was quite interesting--"  
  
"Come on," Jared grinned, "there's a duo, flute and harp two blocks over. That should be more to your liking."  
  
Jensen looked at him. "I would like that."  
  
Jared put out his hand to help Jensen to his feet, and pulled it back. "I'm sorry."  
  
"What's sworn is sworn, Jared," Jensen said quietly.  
  
Jared nodded, sadly.  
  
Jared left some paper on the table, and they left, Alona nodding at them across the dance floor.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jensen could hear the fiddle and a pennywhistle as they rounded the corner, and his eyes brightened. Jared's heart pounded in his chest. If Jensen could live as a monk, so could he. His heart was given, and there was no point in burdening Jensen with that knowledge. He would enjoy the country elf's company while he could, and mourn his absence later.  
  
Before they reached the door, his phone blared in his jacket pocket. It was not a regular call, but an alarm.  
  
Jensen stopped, eyes wide, as Jared drew the phone out in one smooth motion. 911 it read. From Chris.  
  
Jared said, "Trouble. Run."  
  
He thought of the route they might have taken home, but there was no telling. There was a jazz club and a microbrewery between the Club and the Museum, they might have stopped there. He ran past the fountain in the boulevard.  
  
Jensen grabbed his arm from behind. "Stop." Jared knew his eyes were wild when he looked back at Jensen, but the country elf's eyes were calm and deadly serious. "Ask for help. Running in circles is no aid to anyone."  
  
"Main and Second," came the bubbling voice of a glastaig from the fountain.  
  
"Second and Main," called a myconid from beneath an oak.  
  
Jensen nodded. "You know where that is, run!"  
  
Jared ran the scant block to Main Street, Jensen scarcely two steps behind him. Idling at the corner was a delivery van with cupcakes painted on the side, and the doors open. Williams, a greying elf with dark skin and multiple hoops in the lobe of one ear directed a crew of gnomes, who were dragging an enormous ogre into the van. He turned his head and beckoned Jared forward.  
  
"What happened?" he demanded.  
  
"Morgan's human killed that ogre," Williams said.  
  
The gnomes slammed the van doors, and stood waiting for instructions.  
  
"Are they alright?" asked Jared, trembling.  
  
"Ajax carried Morgan in the back way, and Alona came running with her heels in her hand. I don't know any more than that. Morgan was alive; the human was covered with blood, but I don't think it was his." He looked at Jared sternly. "Time to do something about this, boy."  
  
Jared nodded, and took off toward the Museum at a lope, confident Jensen was following. His hands shook over the keypad, but Jensen was beside him now, and he punched in his PIN accurately, despite the shaking of his hands.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
The lights were on in the garage, and blazed brightly as they ran through the hallway, Jensen a half step behind, not knowing the way.  
  
Jared pushed open a door and strode through. Jensen followed him, and his eyes went wide. The room was white and chrome, cold looking. Alona had put a white smock of some sort over her dress and was bending over a figure on a bed that had wheels. There was beeping and Chris stood to one side trembling, his golden shirt striped red with ogre gore. Jared pulled Chris into a hug; the human straightened, nodding.  
  
Jensen looked at Alona who seemed to need an extra pair of hands. He had hands. He stripped his jacket and scarf and left them in a pile on the floor, slipping in at her side, where a basin was threatening to topple. He held it still, and waited for instruction. Alona glanced up and smiled. "Thanks. It looks worse than it is, but he's hurt sorely."  
  
The elf on the bed was Morgan. Both eyes were swollen, and blood trickled from a cut on his head. Alona was cutting the jeans off him, right leg bent at an unnatural angle. She spoke softly to Jensen. "Ajax went to get ice. Can you help me wash out the wounds?" She handed him a squirt bottle. "Wash them out with this, let me know if there's anything worse than his leg."  
  
"Broken. Can you mend it?"  
  
She flashed him a grin. "You're walking around today, aren't you?"  
  
Jensen nodded and tried to move the hand Morgan clutched to his stomach. There was something under it, and he murmured nonsense to Morgan while working his hand loose. Alona had Morgan's pants off, and looked curiously at Jensen.  
  
"There's something under there, something he's protecting."  
  
She nodded, and stroked Morgan's hand until he let her move it to the side. Under his sweater, a pixie breathed rapidly, one wing broken, looking nearly as beaten as Morgan.  
  
Ajax came back, and seemed to understand what Alona needed without words. Jensen backed away with the pixie in his hands. Ajax jerked his head at a counter, where a candy dish sat incongruously. "Chocolate first, then sugar," he said tersely.  
  
Jensen nodded, and chose a chocolate from the bowl. He waved it before the pixie's nose, and it gave a tiny groan. Jensen hooked a rolling stool with his foot, and sat on it, cradling the pixie in one arm, coaxing bits of chocolate the pixie could manage into its mouth. While he worked, he could hear Jared speaking softly to Chris.  
  
"Barrow elves are tough, Chris. Alona says it's not as bad as it looks."  
  
"I can't lose him, Jared. After everything. I was always meant to go first, what am I going to do?"  
  
"Take care of him while he heals, what else?"  
  
Chris gulped air to cover a sob. "I know, I know. It's just that he didn't even fight. I don't know what happened! One minute we were walking, and the next, Jeff turned around. He looked surprised, and then I got knocked to the side."  
  
"What was it?"  
  
"Ogre, I think."  
  
"How'd you get away? You called me, it must have been over by then," Jared asked.  
  
"Slammed his head into a Ferrari. I think the antenna went up his nose. Someone's going to have to clean that up."  
  
"The antennae what?" asked Jared, shocked.  
  
"You know, those short antennas they have? Went up his nose. Lucky it found a tiny brain in there. Sprayed all over my shirt."  
  
Jared couldn't help but laugh. "20 points to Gryffindor."  
  
"What? Look, Jared, what about the mess? Shit! I killed one of the Folk! How much trouble am I in?"  
  
"You were acting defensively. No trouble. Williams and his gnomes got the clean up, it's already done."  
  
"Williams, the baker?"  
  
"Yeah. He may be the Sugar Plum Fairy, but baking isn't all he does. He learned to fight trolls when he was just a kid. Didn't you know he was our clean up guy?" asked Jared.  
  
Chris shook his head. "I only know his baked goods. Must’ve been a tough neighborhood he grew up in."  
  
"Bakes like Jacques Torres," said Jared. He looked up at Jensen, and noticed what he was doing. "Holy shit, you're feeding a pixie."  
  
"He's hurt," Jensen said. He'd not given it a thought. "Morgan had him tucked into his sweater."  
  
Chris smacked himself. "That explains it."  
  
Morgan gave a grunt as Alona set the break in his leg, and a golden glow fell over the table. He drew a deep breath, and cursed like a sailor for a full minute. His swollen eyes searched the room. "Chris?"  
  
"Don't you ever scare me like that again," came Chris's trembling voice. Alona nodded, and he moved to Morgan's side.  
  
"You okay?" asked the barrow elf, urgently, flailing his hand to reach the human.  
  
"He's covered in ogre blood, and he saved your sorry ass," said Alona. "Your leg's broken, and you look like you've been in a prizefight. We need to figure out what to do about this." Looking at the pixie in Jensen's chocolate covered hands, she cursed, and went to a cupboard,. "Bring him, the poor thing." She pocketed a small container, and waited at another rolling bed.  
  
Jensen carried the pixie over to the table and looked at Alona.  
  
"Oh, put him down. Did he eat all that chocolate or did you have some, too?"  
  
"I? No, Ajax said chocolate first."  
  
Alona looked at him, and her expression gentled. "Well then. Go wash your hands - and your face." She motioned to the sink, and pulled on a pair of gloves before she treated the pixie..  
  
Jensen washed his hands. In the mirror above the sink, he could see streaks of chocolate where he had wiped away tears he hadn't realized he'd shed. What was happening to him? He splashed water on his face and turned to look at the room behind him while he dried his hands. Alona was bent over her tiny patient, Chris was speaking quietly to Morgan, their hands clasped. Jared was looking at him proudly, although Jensen couldn't think of a thing he'd done to earn it.  
  
Jared pushed a pair of wheeled stools between the beds, and sat on one, nodding at Jensen to take the other. He cleared his throat. "All right, let's hear it."  
  
All of the eyes in the room were on him. The pixie nodded. "Danger. Danger!" it said, and burbled on incomprehensibly.  
  
Jared sighed. "We know it's dangerous. What else can you--"  
  
"Have you a Singer?" interrupted Jensen.  
  
"We did, once. He doesn't come around anymore," said Jared slowly. "Why?"  
  
"A Singer can understand -- do you not know this?" asked Jensen incredulously.  
  
"We've had no need of a Singer," said Alona thoughtfully, as she stabilized the pixie's wing. "Those who come to the City are at pains to speak the common tongue."  
  
Ajax cleared his throat. "You can understand him, Paladin," he said.  
  
"I?" asked Jensen.  
  
The dverger nodded. "You are covered with pixie dust, but it seems to have missed your ears."  
  
Jensen looked at the sparkling dust on his sleeves, and brought his arms up to let them brush his ears. In a moment, he could understand the pixie clearly. No longer the singsong repetitive words, but full sentences.  
  
"Black Francis, slow down!" he said, and reached for the diminutive fae.  
  
Morgan groaned. "They have names!"  
  
In Jensen's hands, the pixie looked up adoringly. "It has been long since any of the tall folk could understand me."  
  
Jared rubbed his head on Jensen's shoulder, and Alona clasped her hands to the sides of her head, turning toward Morgan to do the same for him and for the human.  
  
"In the tunnels, Donnelly has an army," began Black Francis, "He intends to burn the City, lay it to ruin."  
  
Jensen looked at Jared, then at Morgan. "We must stop him."  
  
"Then," the pixie fought for breath, "he intends to take a Hill."  
  
"What Hill?" asked Jensen gently, afraid he already knew the answer.  
  
"The Hill of his father?" asked the pixie. "He did not name it, as if it were not necessary."  
  
"I'll call the Hunt," said Jared.  
  
"You will require more than the Hunt," said the pixie. "They are strong, many."  
  
"I can fight," said Chris.  
  
"No." Morgan shook his head. "A human on the battlefield makes each loss permanent. Of all who could fight, you absolutely cannot."  
  
"I'll start the phone chain," said Ajax, "we have a plan for this, Jared." He left the door open behind him as he left the room.  
  
Jensen looked at the triumvirate. "They declare war on all of us."  
  
A whir of wings, heralded the arrival of more pixies, who lifted Black Francis from Jensen's hands. "We will take him to the nest. To heal. We fight with you. It is our City as well. Our gardens."  
  
"Wait!" cried the injured pixie. "There is an elf there. A woman who hides from the others. It hurts her to be there and she does not see anything well, but she can see the eyes." He looked down, shyly. "She is my friend."  
  
Jared looked at Jensen quickly, then back at the pixie. "This is welcome news, Black Francis."  
  
"Then I am pleased."  
  
The pixies vanished.  
  
Morgan sat up with Chris's help. "We fight at dawn. Go home."  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Chad had to hear what happened when they got home, and Jared called River Mumma and the eldest of the naiads into the kitchen to hear the news. He needed their help to give them a chance of winning the battle, and explained what he wanted them to do. Kim gazed at them all from her rug by the door.  
  
River Mumma was silent for a very long time, before she agreed. "We must fight," she said, "although I have little love for the idea. We have friends in the tunnels, Jared".  
  
"All of us do," agreed Jared. "I want them back."  
  
She nodded, " Are you certain that opening the gates is all you need my children to do?" Adrienne bared her teeth, and Jensen shivered. A naiad could pull an entire patrol into the water and drown them, in an instant.  
  
"That is all I ask. After this is over, we will need your help with repairs, but that's a different discussion."  
  
Adrienne gave Jared a quick nod, and he saw them to the door.  
  
Jared let out a shuddering breath, and sat down heavily at the table.  
  
"I know you are uncertain with regard to their numbers, but many of the folk have agreed to fight with you. You have a sound plan, Jared," offered Jensen, looking at the lists and drawings on the table. The map on the table showed where every tunnel connected to the others, and differently colored dots showed where everyone was to take their stand. The dvergers had been and gone, Alona was at the Kindred's Hill, talking to them. Morgan had gone to bed after the Folk and the remaining Fae had come to the Museum to hear their parts in the plan.  
  
  
"This is no tale," said Jared, "it's actually happening." He looked at Kim, and then at Chad. "If --"  
  
"I know," interrupted the brownie. "Drink your milk and go to bed."  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Jared did sleep for awhile, but the nightmare woke him again, this time with the addition of Jensen's lifeless body on the steps behind him. The bedding was as tangled around his bare limbs as his thoughts about Jensen, the battle and the future were. Snow whispered against the windows, and he sighed, unable to go back to sleep. He sat up when a familiar form passed by his open door and called out, "Hello?"  
  
Jensen stopped and came into the room. "It was not my intent to waken you."  
  
The skin on Jensen's bare chest glowed in the moonlight, the twinkling torc a painful reminder of what Jared could never ask for. Jensen's hair was still bound in the plait, and his expression was concerned. Jared groaned. "I wasn't sleeping, but Jensen, you awaken me in ways I have no right to burden you with."  
  
"I, what?" Jensen’s question was soft, holding the promise of something that made Jared’s heart ache.  
  
"You." Confession was easier in the dark. "You stir me, make me want to be better, and the best way for me to do that is to respect your vow, and leave you be, no matter how much more I want."  
  
Jensen sat on the corner of the bed, facing him. "What more is it, Jared, that you want from me?"  
  
In anyone else, Jared would have seen it as flirting, and he thought he might have to sit on his hands to keep from touching. He was happy the covers were bundled in his lap, concealing his desire.  
  
"Every day. Every moonrise, every sunset, every footstep and word. I want you." Jared drew a shuddering breath. "None of this is fair to you. You should go to bed."  
  
"I think this is a conversation we must have. We could die tomorrow."  
  
"Isn't it better if we don't?"  
  
Jensen laughed, ""Die, or have this conversation?" His tone grew sober with a hint of something else behind it and Jared thought that maybe Jensen desired him as well. "There are many things I should say to you. The night before battle is a good time to tell you. Jared, even when I was a child, I knew that women stirred me not. I did not know that you might be in this world."  
  
"Would it have made a difference?"  
  
"Oh, yes," breathed Jensen. "You are more than temptation, air to my drowning." He moved back. "I am bound by my own magic, my choice, and my words, but you are not."  
  
"I am, Jensen. My mother's people fall in love once in their long lives. I want to pull you into my arms and make you shout with joy, wake with you beside me, spend the rest of our years together. It's too late for me, Jensen. I will love you until I die, and that is the tragedy of it."  
  
"In my dreams, Jared, I have kissed you a thousand times, and wished I had chosen differently."  
  
Jared pounded a fist into the mattress. "I can't," he shuddered, "even have that, can I?"  
  
By the light of the moon, Jared could see Jensen's eyes darken. "I think I can manage a kiss." He leaned forward and Jared met him halfway. The kiss was chaste, and sweet, and Jared felt flooded with the magic of it. Jensen pulled away, eyes wide and bright.

  


"Truth."

"Truth," Jared agreed.

Jensen stood, and reached behind him, loosening a fall of hair that reached past his hips, until he was cloaked in silver. His eyes locked with Jared, and he spoke the old tongue too quickly for Jared to follow. Jensen's hair blew about him as if there was a breeze in the room. The soft pants he was wearing slid from his narrow hips, and Jensen stood naked before him, hands on his torc.

"No!" Jared shouted, and leapt out of the bed to -- he didn't know what he was going to do, but Jensen could not break his vow, not for him, and not now.  
   


Jensen stopped, bewildered, and the blue glow of his magic settled into a nimbus about him.

Jared fell to his knees. "Please," he sobbed, breaking his own heart.

Shock and hurt warred for dominance in Jensen's eyes.

"If you break your vow, and I lose you tomorrow because of it -- lose the City because of it --"

"I understand," said Jensen.

"You can't," said Jared, gaining control of himself. "The last time I know of that an elven vow was broken, we lost an entire Hill." Jared pulled himself to his feet. "I would have you, no matter what the cost to me, but there is no telling what else is at stake here."

Jensen nodded, and looked sorrowfully at Jared. "Were I free, Jared, this is how it would be with us."

He let the flow of magic go slowly, murmuring broken endearments in a gentle mixture of languages. Without touching, he painted Jared's skin with the magic that rolled off of him in delicate tendrils, skin shining with perspiration, in an effort to control its flow.

Jared panted as the light touched him, aroused beyond anything he'd ever experienced, and trembled as Jensen's magic passed over him, through him, touching, embracing every part of him, more intimate than any lover’s caress could ever be. He groaned, shaking from the need for release. He reached for Jensen, an arm's length away from him. Jensen shook his head, and let the rest of the magic he'd husbanded go.

Jared burned like fire, he was kissed with snow, the light was so bright it blinded him, then thrust him into darkest night. He came, crying out as his body twisted and arched, knees slamming into the floorboards.

He raised his head and looked at Jensen in wonder, and took in the sad smile. Jensen stroked his silver hair from where it had twined with Jared's dark curls, It felt like a benediction and Jared knelt, trembling from his release, though the floor was cold, and his body ached.

"I will go to my room now, and return to the Hill after the battle. I can live with my vow, if I am not near you." Jensen kicked the soft pants aside, and walked out of the room.

Sticky, spent, and miserable, Jared dragged himself back to bed, and fell into an exhausted sleep until an hour before dawn.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Jared dressed, and made his way downstairs. Jensen sat at the counter in the kitchen, smiling at something Chad was saying. He was dressed as he had come into the city, silk and velvet, the woolen cloak and his weapons at hand, and Jared committed the scene to memory. Jensen looked up as Jared came in and nodded. Everything had been said, choices that could not be unmade. Kim sauntered through the kitchen and stood at his side.

Chad looked at them solemnly. "They all said yes, Jared. Be careful."

Jensen donned his cloak, and followed Jared and Kim out the front door, almost bumping into Jared, as he stopped, stunned. The apple tree in the front yard was in full bloom, in spite of the foot of snow that had already fallen. "Out of season," said Jared.

"Truth," said Jensen.

They bumped shoulders as they walked toward the Museum.

There was already a crowd at the subway entrance.

Jared looked out at his gathered friends. Kim sat at his side looking serious.

"I'm going down to the tunnels," he said, and the gathered fey snorted. "I know, you know. Donnelly is down there, and a lot of our people who haven't been acting like themselves. It's dangerous." In the distance, there was the barking of a number of dogs. Kim barked, too, while a ragtag bunch of terriers, house pets and street dogs sat at attention, facing her. She nodded, and they looked at Jared.

"What--" began Jensen.

"My Hunt," Jared said curtly.

Jensen looked at them with dismay. Kim rolled her eyes at Jensen, and gave a thundering bark Jensen had never heard from her. The motley group of dogs whined, and changed before his eyes, to a teeming mass of black shapes, red eyes glowing, their teeth bared. Jensen took a step to Jared's side. Kim whined and he saw them as they were. The terrier with three legs, the show dogs with their rhinestone collars, and the whippet with a flying disc clenched in its teeth. Kim stuck her familiar wet nose into his palm.

"They're still dogs, Jensen," said Jared, with a smile.

"They are the Hunt. I honor them." He bowed at the pack; they raised their snouts in the air, and their bay chilled his blood. Despite their appearance, they were a formidable force.

"Thank you," said Jared, with some surprise. He turned to the remaining Fae. "Adrienne, you and the naiads will open the sluice gate. For only five minutes, you understand?"

Adrienne nodded, flipping back her dreads. "I have chosen the music."

Jared gave her a long look.

"It works better for us if we have music, Jared, you know that."

He nodded.

"There are grigs in all the tunnels leading from the station. Dvergers are at the north tunnel and the secondary tunnel in the west; the Sidhe have blocked the south. To the southwest, trolls and ogres, and to the true west stand the Kindred. The northwest passage will be held by spriggans. We," he gestured at the Hunt, "come from the south."

"Our friends," he gestured, "have friends and family in the tunnels. They are our people." He looked seriously at each of those gathered. "We don't want to hurt them, if we can avoid it. That said, you stay safe above all else. Understood?"

From the distance, a figure ran toward them. "I fight with you," called Jake. "The eyes are there. My mother is there."

Jared shook his head. "It's not your fight, Jake."

Shaking with emotion, Jake stood his ground. "I will be a part of this."

Jared shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"Because you have to bring your Hill if we don't succeed."

Jensen sucked in a shocked breath, and nodded. It was the only back up plan possible.

"Bring the Hill?" asked Jake, bewildered.

"These," Jared gestured at the Folk before him, "are all the fighters in the City, Jake. With the exception of those in the tunnels. Some of our best, most deadly fighters are with Donnelly. This is not, in any way, a fight I know we will win." How, he wondered, could he make Jake understand the fight wasn't winnable, only endable.

Jensen watched Jake turn inward, to consider, for the first time, something outside himself.

"You see?" asked Jared.

"I will bring them, if it is needed. You will succeed." Jake said, with conviction. "Bring back my mother."

Jared nodded. The naiads dove into the River, and he led the remaining Fae into the tunnels.  
______________________________________________________________________________

They walked quietly down the steps, vaulted over the abandoned turnstiles. The tunnels smelled metallic, rusty from the iron that had been weakened in the floods a decade ago. Jensen could feel Jared agonize over the losses that could come in this battle.

"Ware!" called Jensen, and pulled him down, as the ogre's axe swished through the air where Jared's head had been. The Hunt howled, and the ogre fell, hamstrung, blood spurting from his wounds, knocking Jared down. Jensen crouched before him, searching the tunnel in front for another threat. He turned, and gasped at Jared's blood-soaked form.

"Oh, no," he said, in panic. "No, no, I have never said I love you."

Jared reached up shakily and wiped the blood off his face. He grinned at Jensen “It’s not my blood. I promise not to remind you that you said so.”

Jensen stroked a finger over Jared's lips. "I would not leave it unsaid." He pulled Jared to his feet, the Hunt preceding them into the darkness. "Was that a sentry, do you think?"

Just as Jared shrugged, a shout came from in front of them. "Well, they know the Hunt's here."

They followed, shoulder to shoulder, emerging into a large space. Jared cursed, "Shit, it's an abandoned stop." He looked down the three tunnels he could easily see, lit in the distance by the orange torches they had agreed upon. The high ground was held. He shifted his attention to the platform.

A spriggan blocked the stairway opposite the entrance they had used, while two of the Kindred were baiting a berserker dverger into exhaustion. The City trolls had trapped several of their brethren in large nets, a female troll stood a full head taller than the largest male, and seemed to be pleading with the netted trolls. A score of ogres fought in a side tunnel, it looked like Friday night at the Bucket of Blood Tavern.

They waded into the melee. Jensen's bow sang, disabling without killing, and Jared used the pommel of his greatsword more often than the blade to subdue their attackers. He would rather die himself than hurt a Fae creature that had been his friend. Soon Jensen was using his sword as well, Jared would have spelled him a quiver from movie night if such a thing existed.

"There are so many!" grunted Jensen, grimly. "More than twice my Hill at its largest!"

Jared didn't have the time to explain it was less than half of what he's expected.

Seats from a subway car had been stacked with iron rebar poking up like spikes, protecting the mound, until one sat alone at the top of the heap, where Donnelly reigned. The Hunt circled the makeshift throne, putting it at their backs, and holding the denizens of the tunnels at bay.

Above Donnelly's head, hung from a rivet on an iron beam, silver chased topaz eyes stared furiously at the scene. Jared gasped. The eyes were there!

"Flood!" shrieked a dverger, as a wave of water crashed through the east tunnels over the combatants and swirling up and over the mounded seats. Donnelly's dvergers panicked, and the dogs cut them off from the other fighters.

Past the dogs, in the inner ring, a dripping wet elf climbed the seats behind Donnelly intent on the eyes. From Jensen's intake of breath, Jared knew he recognized her; it was Jane, who really was Samantha. He could see her skin blister and scorch each time she touched the rebar. Ignoring the pain, she climbed the last tier, and leapt, missing the eyes by a fraction of an inch. She tumbled into Donnelly's lap, and he started in surprise.

Jensen's bow was raised and sighted in a breath. Jared flinched at the displaced air as the paladin's last arrow flew, crushing the rivet that held the eyes in place. They fell into Samantha's lap--and closed.

There was silence.

The Hunt stood trembling, waiting to see what their foes would do. Jared spotted Kim, hackles raised, bloodied and fearless. Her teeth were bared at an ogre, who'd frozen, brandishing an axe ready to cleave her in two. The ogre blinked, gave the axe an astonished look, and lowered it to the ground. Kim bayed, and the rest of the Fae dropped their weapons, as the water slowed and vanished into the storm drains.

Samantha's weight had toppled Donnelly's throne, and the wave of water had displaced the debris at its base. She shouted in triumph at the top of the pile, holding the closed eyes over her head, as her own eyes cleared, and she blinked. "I remember," she said with wonder.

Donnelly stood, tumbling her off his lap onto the floor. He howled his rage, and threw himself after the eyes in her grasp. He missed his footing and slipped sideways. A horrible scream echoed in the station as he impaled himself on rebar. The weight overbalanced the trash his throne had been built on and he hurtled down the pile, past the yellow line onto the wet tracks.

Electricity arced, throwing him onto the floor of the station, and Jared ran to his side. Sanity finally came back to Donnelly, and he looked up at Jared.

"Son."

Jensen started, but kept his bow aimed at the madman.

"Why?" The dvergers behind Jensen were ready again with a stretcher, but Jared waved them back, and went to his knees next to the fallen King. "What were you thinking?"

Bloody spittle came from his lips as Donnelly laughed. "He was my father." The fallen king jerked his head at the closed eyes in Samantha's hand. "When he passed me over as heir, he sent me away to make a new place." He coughed, and Jensen could tell he didn't have long to live, for all that Alona was running past him.

"He sent me away and I built this City, My blood is in the foundations, the footings of near every building that made this place."

"I know," said Jared, sorrow in his voice. He gestured at Jensen, who lowered his bow. "I know, Father. I've bled for them, myself."

"I went back to the Hill, expecting to be congratulated, and all he wanted was tithe. I refused, and turned my back on them. When he died, his eyes followed me, watched me, made me second guess myself. I built this City, dammit."

"You did," soothed Jared. Alona knelt on the other side of Donnelly, and shook her head at Jared, who acknowledged her with a short nod.

"I only meant to make him stop. When I went to the hill, I just wanted the gaze of the eyes to stop."

"But instead, everyone in your wake went mad," Jared said flatly.

"I didn't _know_, dammit."

"You couldn't have."

"It was Sheppard's nature. I should have guessed. I put them here in the tunnels, caged by iron, and thought us safe. The floods freed them, and I could no longer refuse their call." He grasped Jared's hand. “I'm so sorry. Rule wisely. Live and let live, Jared. Hold the Fae and the Folk close, they are your best allies in this world."

"I will."

Donnelly shuddered. "I miss your mother."

"I do, too."

Donnelly's eyes closed, and Jensen saw the life leave his body.

The trolls and goblins shook off their stupor and cried as one, "Ave! Ave, the new King!"

Jared hunched over his dead father, and Jensen did not know how to help him.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Alona treated Samantha's burns, and the tunnel dwellers were helped out the entrance to be rejoined with their families.

"Your son is out there," she told the Hill Queen.

"My son is a baby," protested Samantha.

Jensen stood torn between his love and his responsibility, and felt his heart break, as he made the only possible choice.

"Samantha." He pulled his friend to her feet, and helped her walk into the daylight. "Time runs differently in the Hill."

They passed the hamstrung ogre, being treated by a healer Jensen did not know.

Squinting at the early dawn's light, Samantha stumbled, and before Jensen could right her, Jake rushed to her other side. "Mother?"

Blinking rapidly, Samantha looked at the young elf, and smiled slowly. "You have grown."

With a joyful shout, Jake hugged his mother, lifting her off the ground, both of them talking at the same time and seeing nothing but each other. Jensen caught the eyes when she dropped them, and looked at the Museum, remembering Jared's nightmare..

Morgan stood at the top of the steps, leaning heavily on a stick, with Chris a step behind him. Most of the bruising had already faded, the barrow elf had healed quickly, and he looked at Jensen for news. Alona came up the steps past him, pushing Jared before her, and the trio stood, a few steps above Jensen.

"No one died, but your King," Jensen said. He held out the eyes, and Morgan flinched. Jared looked at him through tear swollen eyes. "You're not leaving them in my City."

"I will take them back to the Hill, then."

The Fae at the base of the steps looked up, pixies whirring among them as they shouted again, acknowledging their new King. Jared knuckled at his eyes, and looked sadly at Jensen, as Black Francis lit on his shoulder and tugged at Jensen's hair.

"Time for us to go." said the Hill elf. "Ave, the new King."

Jared looked as if Jensen had struck him.

"Don't go. Don't go," the pixie whispered in its usual pidgin.

Jensen rummaged in his pockets, and offered candy to the pixie, who looked at him sadly.

"I have to. I am sworn." He went down the stairs to join Jake and Samantha who stood waiting.

"Renege. Renege," wailed the pixie, clinging to Jensen's cloak.

"My oath is all I have left," said Jensen bitterly.

The pixie took the candy from him, and crunched it between its teeth, Jensen didn't close his eyes, letting the color wash over him. It was how he would remember this time, remember Jared.

Samantha looked at him questioningly from the base of the steps, as Jensen made a show of checking the pixie for injury. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Not me. Not me," it replied, and flew to the top of the steps. Jensen followed its flight to where it lit on Jared's shoulder. He stood with Morgan and Alona flanking him, and nodded miserably.

Everything had been said between them; Jensen nodded back, and repeated, "Time to go."

They walked across the bridge, back to the Hill, and Jensen could feel the pixie's love knot unraveling in his hair.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Jared sat at the granite countertop, coffee steaming in front of him. Chad didn't often make him coffee, he knew the brownie was cozening him.

Breakfast appeared at his elbow, and Chad stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"What is it?" Jared asked, softly. He felt hollow, as if the space where his heart beat had doubled in size, and his own no longer filled it.

"I can't stand it when you cry. Can you thank me already? I could use a break."

It had been months since the Hill elves had left. The railings were finished, the woodwork stained and installed. Jared guessed he'd work on the floors next, and then there was only finishing work left. The house would be just as Wright had envisioned it, and Jared didn't know what he would do after that to keep busy. He sighed, then looked at Chad, trying to muster a smile. The brownie was right, he had been a trial to be around. "Give Alona my love. Thank you, Chad."

The brownie winked out of sight, leaving his Barbie behind as surety of his return.

Three knocks sounded at the door and he groaned. Jared pushed away from the counter. He was King. Other people's problems didn't hold still for heartache, or the vagaries of one's brownie.

He pulled the door open, and the traditional words of welcome died in his throat.

Jensen stood on his front step, the worn green leather jacket topping worn jeans, and apple blossoms dusting his shoulders. He still wore a torc, but the ends were different, hollowed rings peeking out under a familiar Henley shirt. He pulled off the knit cap he was wearing, and Jared gasped at the close shorn hair.

"Am I welcome in your home?" Jensen asked, shyly, question in his moss green eyes.

  


Jared nodded, struck dumb, and stepped to the side.

Jensen took in all the work Jared had completed since he left. "Been busy, I see."

"I needed the distraction," said Jared, finding his voice. "What are you doing here?" He could not let himself hope.

Jensen stood straighter, although his voice was unsure. "The City is where all elves without ties to a Hill come, Jared. You told me that."

"I--you've--"

"Left the Hill."

"What happened?"

"Robert was delighted to get the eyes back, although Samantha and I made sure they will never open again. I presented him with his consort, and he wanted to know when he could expect your tithe."

Jared sputtered with indignation.

Jensen laughed, unguarded, and Jared's heart leapt with hope. "He thanked me for bringing his child back to the Hill. I am released from my oath, but," he touched the torc and grinned fiercely, "I kept my skills. A paladin need only be chaste."

Jared's mind whirled. Chaste. Partnered.

"I brought a child to the Hill, and am sworn to no one," he looked at Jared questioningly, "unless you will have me."

Jared stepped closer, reaching for Jensen with undisguised desire, then stepped back. "What about 'forbidden'?"

Jensen inclined his head, but never dropped Jared's gaze. "When I was sworn to the Hill, I lived by their rules." Desire showed in his eyes, sending all the blood from Jared's brain to his groin. "I hear things are different in the City." He closed the distance between them, and tipped his head. "Did I hear correctly?"

  


~ the end ~

**Author's Note:**

> Sometime this spring, I had a conversation about culture clash, what might get an elf drunk and architecture. This is what came of it.
> 
> Ok, not precisely that, but Eldritch City was born off that conversation, and those pictures have been much of my inspiration for what followed. I had been reading a lot about Frank Lloyd Wright, partly because of a fabulous Robie House window tattoo. A few biographies and art books in, I realized that Wright must have been a changeling. It is the only explanation.
> 
> Art by dulcetine.livejournal.com


End file.
